


Something Sweet and Brown

by chartreuseClock



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz needs to accept therapy honestly, Character Growth, Dark magickal shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Gen, Graphic deaths, Kidnapping, M/M, Magickal and non-magickal violence, Mentions of PTSD, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Book: Carry On, Post-Canon, Romance, Sort of dubcon making out, but not really, slow plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuseClock/pseuds/chartreuseClock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been seven years, and life finds a way.<br/>Coincidentally, magic is life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got myself Carry On for the holidays, and miraculously finished the book before Christmas was over. Spurred by inspiration and headcanons like I haven't felt in years, I decided to try and put my theories into motion. 
> 
> If you're okay with potential spoilers for my theories, here's a link to take a look at the early thoughts: http://convivalchucker.tumblr.com/post/135998790256/brainstorming-the-fic-plot  
> Or just look at #CarryOn from my tumblr, I suppose. 
> 
> I tend to enjoy slow starting plots, so I'm probably just dropping hints here and there in the first few chapters before things start to roll. This is the first time I'm writing in years, if anyone have tips or suggestions please help me out here. English is not my first language, nor my forte.

***

 

**Simon**

 

Professor Bunce was right, restoration ecology is really a healing subject for someone like Simon Snow. Granted, it wasn’t like Simon thought he would ever actually get into the sciences of all subjects. Even back in Watford, he never did particularly well in any of his classes, so it comes as a surprise to even Simon himself when he found himself holding his own in university courses. Maybe the fact that he’s not constantly whisked away on missions and battles finally allowed him to study, or maybe he was just glad to have  _ something else _ to focus on for once. Whimsically, he had taken a few classes out of every subject that interested him. 

 

At first it had started as a mistake, he was hurrying to Calculus I at the start of term one day and ended up stumbling into Introduction to Biofuels instead, but then he grew addicted to the freedom that comes with university education. There was no real final level, no set of skills he needed to learn before a doomed boss battle comes hurtling at him from the fiery depths. That is the stuff of dreams from the past, Simon of the now could do anything he wanted. He might have been separated from his magic, from  _ magic _ , but the world is still carrying on with him inside. So he took many classes, so many that Penny would nag that he’s wasting his time not narrowing his field, but after five years in university he graduated with a degree in Ecological Biology and Professor Bunce hired him to be part of the holes restoration taskforce.

 

Simon doesn’t like to think too deeply into things, though the chance to do so has been presenting itself more and more as the years passed. It feels like watching graffiti gradually fade from a wall as rain season comes and goes, and gradually it doesn’t hurt as much anymore whenever he sees the other mages flinch every time they enter a hole. And really, things are good. There are sure signs that the holes are gradually shrinking over time. Or to be more precise, according to Penny’s dad, the concentration of magic within the holes is slowly filling back up. In his second year with the taskforce, Simon wrote a paper on magickal succession in the magickal atmosphere -with Professor Bunce’s help- and earned the taskforce an increase in funding when the paper was presented to the Coven. The publication of the paper was such a rush to the magical community, after all. It was proof that even after the years of wars, life finds a way. Simon always knew he was right, all those year ago, when told Baz that magic  _ is _ life. Even though he isn’t Magic anymore, he’s still alive, and magic was never really gone from him.

 

They’re _alive_. 

 

The Mage’s death, the Humdrum’s end, all of that are years behind them now. He and Baz were so sure that they won’t come out of the war alive that even now, Baz insisted it must’ve been a miracle in the stars that things turned out the way they did for them, for the world. And It’s certainly a bizarre turn of events, now that he actually has time to himself now. Sometimes Simon would just sit at the window of his room and ruminate about his life up until this point. It had been terrifying in the beginning, everyday was so utterly unplanned and thoughtful that he half-expects to wake up one morning to find that it was all just a dream. There was no more expected danger, no more expected battles, and most major concerns now-a-days are usually just mundane deadlines for when he has to turn in some reports for Professor Bunce. It’s bitter to realize that, even after seven years, that the revelation of him being a fraud of a hero would be so… relieving. 

 

**Baz**

 

He’s doing that thing again. The thinking thing, and for all the jibes and jeers his younger self might have thrown at Simon Snow, there is nothing Tyrannus Basilton Pitch is as sure of as the fact that his boyfriend in deep thought is really damn hot. 

 

It sets a familiar twinge in his chest, the way those thousand-yard stares would just seem to go beyond. Just, beyond. He used to worry that Simon wasn’t adjusting well, but then he understood that at the face of Simon’s lack of magical powers, he forgets that Simon Snow is still ever the blazing ball of fire that he always has been. Nothing stops Snow, and instead of dissociation or whatever he was worried about, Baz eventually realized that  _ Simon _ was finally growing. Finally allowed to grow, to reiterate. Their old misconceptions of the glass ceiling -their eventual fates- was finally gone, and watching Snow slowly flourish into a man’s shoes is glorious. How did he manage to hoodwink his way into such a good life? 

 

Still, illegally handsome and dreamy boyfriend aside, Snow has stopped mid-motion in picking up that box of kitchenwares, and  _ someone _ has to be the voice of reason and efficacy around here while Bunce is away.    
  
“You know, the deal was that I move the couch, the desk, and the bed only. Just because you don’t have superstrength, it doesn’t mean you can play dead on the floor,” Baz reminded, graciously, and hid a quiet snort when his boyfriend jerked a little from where he’s half-crouched absently over a large box to glare at him. Snow didn’t say anything, but just huffed and picked up the box after a grunt. Though Baz can tell that Bunce’s  **That which does not kill us makes us stronger** has worn off already, he chose to just sit back and admire the way he can almost see Snow's back muscles flex from under his slightly damp t-shirt. 

 

Bunce is already making the first trip of moving her boxes to her new flat, a little closer to the university and most importantly,  _ the library _ . Naturally, her American boywonder is there to make sure she doesn’t have to lift anything heavier than her Encyclopedias. It’s good that Bunce is moving in with Micah on their own though, because as much as Baz refused to let it show, having two pairs of couples under one roof can get… awkward at times. Besides, it wasn’t like Bunce is leaving for America like Simon initially dreaded, so what’s a complex or two compared to that? At least this way, they’ll have some privacy for once, without Bunce just blundering straight through any  **Now you see me, now you don’t** because of her blasted ring.

 

Finding some pity in his heart -Oh, who is he kidding? He’ll always have pity in his heart for Snow, precious Simon Snow- when he heard Snow curse for the hundredth time today, followed by the sound of clattering pots bursting free from their cardboard confines, Baz laughed under his breath and strode after his boyfriend. So maybe he’ll be lifting more than just the heavier furniture today. 

  
  


***

 

**Simon**

 

It feels a little strange to officially live with Baz again after so many years ‘apart’, but once he remembered that Baz pretty much slept over every night, the initial strangeness faded pretty quickly. There is a definite sense of excitement when they closed the door behind them for the last time, after all the boxes have been moved from the old flat. This is their new home now. It’s like being roommates again, except this unit only has one bedroom. Their one bedroom. 

 

Even after spending seven years in his flat with Penny and Baz, Simon still couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of ‘his own place’. He will never be forced to move from home to home again against his wishes. 

 

“ **There’s no place like home.** ” 

 

He also discovered that Baz has the shittiest sense in interior design, for all his posh snobbiness. 

 

***

 

**Baz**

 

He has always had the suspicion that Bunce, all the Bunces really, functions  _ better _ when they’re under high stress. This explained a lot about most of what he knew of Penelope Bunce, the way she and Snow used to throw themselves head first into danger and still somehow have plans. She was always the planner, the orchestrator, the one with things up her sleeves, but he still didn’t think she has time for  _ this much _ . Arranging for Micah to move from America, moving to a new flat, and working on her Doctor’s at the same time is a bit of a new level of ‘too much’ as fast as Baz knew about Bunce, but then again, he supposed it’s nothing compared to fighting in a war with lives at stake. Or maybe, Bunce might just actually not be human after all. 

 

Because really, who on Earth would also have time to help found the Magic World’s first Magickal Law Enforcement Department on top of it all? 

 

Still, Snow seemed really thrilled for Bunce. It has been a dream of hers since their Watford days to cause a change like this. ‘ _ Progress of a society, _ ’ Snow used to quote from Bunce, ‘ _ begins with the establishment of law enforcement and distribution of social welfare. _ ’ Baz won’t exactly argue against it. After what had happened with the Mage, even the Old Families have agreed that it’s too dangerous to put all the powers into the hands of just one faction, even though each and every single one of them still thirsted for it now. It was just too dangerous to allow the availability to exist, and if nobody can take it, it was better that no one can have it. Still, there is no denying that when the Mage opened the doors of Watford to anyone that can spell magic, he created a new generation of mages in the Magic World. With the new generation, diverse in their origin and backgrounds, came new movements. Seven years after his death, a reform is in full swing across their society. Not quite civil unrest, but rights movements are shaking the foundation of old traditions across many influential families. Some families, like the Wellbelove, have always been on the edge of the old world influences, and were quick to adapt to new trending concepts of equity and distribution of power. The Pitches and the Grimms, well. Baz is pretty sure there isn’t much his father can do about it if he decided to stand by Snow and Bunce. 

 

Everyone was clapping as Premal stepped down from the podium after his speech, now assigned as the new Chief of the Law Enforcement Department, and Baz realized that it would be rude if he isn’t looking at the same direction as everyone else. Or at least, if Snow caught him looking away, he would never hear the end of it. Watching Bunce’s mother cut the bright red enchanted ribbon tied around the entrance of the new Law Enforcement Department building, sent as an official representative and elected Mage of the Coven, Baz was a little startled when his supernatural hearing picked up a little sniffle from his left. His head whipped to his side so quickly his neck popped.    
  
Snow’s eyes were visibly moist as he clapped as loudly as the crowd, and he was smiling, which relaxed Baz’s shoulders initially. Still, he bumped his silent inquiry over at his companion, until Snow’s quiet laugh made him drop the rest of his tension. 

 

“I’m just happy for her,” Snow explained, his light smile turning a bit amused at Baz’s overreaction. He bumped his shoulder back against the vampire’s arm, his hands still clapping away. “It’s nice,” he elaborated, though Baz is sure that if he isn’t what he is he wouldn’t have been able to pick up Snow’s quiet voice over the din. “She’s- It’s been her goal, you know? One of her goals. It’s nice to see life going on.” He didn’t clarify further, but he didn’t need to. Baz understood what he meant just fine. A little stiffly, he just nodded. He wanted to lean into Snow’s ear and let him know that he’s living life too. Every one of them is living it, even if Baz isn’t technically alive. But he held back, because Simon seems to be thinking a lot these days, and he’ll be patient and let him figure it out on his own. He always waited for Simon.

  
  


**Simon**

 

Since that day, he stopped feeling magic. It had always felt like water to him, if he were a fish. When he was younger he didn’t know how to put it to words, and it wasn’t until he lost all of it that he found the right ones. It was never like a well, or tension, or ignition, or anything like that. Sure, the magic that he wielded was like a constant fission in the core of his very being, but that wasn’t his. It was never his. But when he had it, he could  _ feel _ magic, and it was sweet, and it washed over his soul like a warm bath. Maybe that’s why he always associated the Humdrum -the holes- with an itchy sort of dryness that crawled under his skin. He might not have been meant for magic, he’s just a Normal after all, but he was bathed in it all his life that having it all gone is like being thrown onto a desert planet.    
  
Simon got really good at detecting magic, even though he can’t feel it anymore. Words used to confound him. They were something that was never really taught to him, something of a liberty that he never owned. In hindsight, he wondered if that was why he went off so easily whenever he’s upset. He didn’t have the words to express himself, but he still have  _ feelings _ , and sometimes that gets too much when he can’t control his own magic.    
  
Penny used to theorize that there was no way he could still enter Watford, or any enchanted building charmed against the Normals if he has always just been a Normal, but that just made him sad, so she stopped eventually. All the chalkboard talks wouldn’t have brought his magic back, and sometimes Simon isn’t even sure if he wants it back again. 

 

Baz and Penny, and even the Bunces, were all exceptionally careful with him in the beginning. He knew that they meant well. They didn’t want to upset him but bringing up magic, or even ‘wasting’ magic in front of him, so they avoided using it at all around Simon. That was seriously aggravating. There was no one that loved magic as much as Simon, there still isn’t, probably. It wasn’t like he used much of magic when he was in Watford, it would’ve just blew up on him anyways, there wouldn’t have been much of a difference if he couldn’t use it now. It took some time, and explanations plus shouting, but over time people stopped walking on eggshells around him. Things went back to normal, or as normal as they could anyways. 

 

Simon got really sick around his birthday the same year, he couldn’t manage to keep down anything, and it terrified everyone. Luckily he was still under house arrest at that time, at the Bunce’s, so there were more than enough people at hand to try to help. When the Bunces and Baz were throwing healing and recovery spells after spells at him while he was practically delirious from fever, he thought he felt the familiar tug in his navel. 

 

Of course, he still had no magic. But he got good at recognizing magic when the words are said, really good. 

 

A year or so ago, Baz had brought him on a night market trip at London for the Harvest Moon celebration, a local specialty for the more underground, magickal side of the city, and Simon had caught on that the vendor was trying to swindle them with magic before either Penny or Baz had. They got a really good deal at the end of bargaining, after both Penny and Baz had went at it on the lying cheater, anyways. Simon is a little proud of it, but Penny insisted that magic isn’t like eyesight. He wasn’t going to suddenly get better at sensing other things just because he can’t feel magic anymore. That just wasn’t how it worked. 

 

So he didn’t really feel like trying to share what he thought to be a new talent anymore. Maybe he was being a bit delusional, or maybe he was just so used to hearing magic that he could still recognize the way people put in a little more  _ feelings _ behind their words when they cast. At the least, Baz doesn’t laugh at him or anything, but Simon has a feeling that the lack of refute is just pity on the drop-dead gorgeous vampire’s part. 

 

He grinned a little at the pun inside his own head, knowing the Baz is still watching him- has been watching him since his earlier episode. He just lost touch with his emotions for a moment, honestly! Baz is such a mother hen sometimes, he swears that he and Penny combined are both trying to mother him back to age seven. 

 

Simon looked over to meet eyes with Baz, ever meticulously groomed even in a crowd like this, sharp grey eyes still clearly so focused on him like it’s the most normal thing to do at any time. He has gotten good at reading Baz Pitch, dating for years does that to anyone, and just the amount of affection pooling in his boyfriend’s eyes is making him red. His wings, still invisible, flustered and accidentally swatted someone in the crowd behind him. “Uh- wanna go grab a bite before we head back?” he asked, knowing that Penny wasn’t going to be joining them today because she needed to attend a meeting immediately after the Ribbon Cutting Ceremony. Being a successful young woman also means she doesn’t get to hang out with them as much as she used to, but at least they’re still promising to meet up at each other’s places -depending on whose house is less covered in paper and books that particular period- every weekend. Plus, he’ll probably see her flit in and out when he visits Professor Bunce’s office for work. 

 

Baz’s face was expressionless for the first moment, and Simon knew it was because the vampire was trying to decide if that was another pun or not. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s been finding a few hobby in poking fun at Baz with puns instead of their usual aggravation tactics. Now that Penny isn’t always going to be around to keep them from their senseless fights, they’re going to need a more peaceful way to mess with each other! That was Simon’s excuse and he’s going to stick with it. 

 

“Sure, Porter’s Pub, then?” Baz eventually agreed, letting out a breath like he does every time he secretly relinquished an internal battle. Simon tried not to smile, and slipped a hand in Baz’s cooler one. Baz always orders the chocolate lava cake whenever they go there, and it’s adorable watching his fanged goober of a boyfriend light up at enough sugar to put all his stepsiblings into sugar comas. 

 

“Alright, wherever you want to go, Baz.” 

 

***

 

**Baz**

 

It’s late. Or at least later than Snow usually stays up lately, and Baz never thought a half-furnished room still piled with unopened boxes would feel so… cozy. It’s not a word he usually use for situations that doesn’t involve Snow, but he supposed that’s the reason, isn’t it? 

 

Snow stirred gently under the sheets, having long-since mastered the art of tucking his wings in, his usual mess of curls like shaven bronze spilling over onto the pillowcase. It’s always like art, watching his hair flow like that, even though it’s more often than not covered in mud and dirt since he knew Snow. He inhaled slowly. Every since that day, Simon doesn’t smell like wrath of some jealous God anymore. He’s more now, more than just something sweet and brown. There is something distinctively new coming from Snow, in a similar way a young babe grows from the smell of his mother’s milk into something entirely different. Simon is growing, and he’s more beautiful than ever. It almost hurts to look at him directly.

 

Said specimen of human beauty was awake, and though the sheets covered half his face, the sleepy smile was there in those crinkled blue eyes. They’re blue. Just blue, and it takes Baz’s breath away every time knowing that they’re looking at him and only him. 

 

“Welcome home,” he says. 

 

**_Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?_ **

  
***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Simon and Pitch's domestic life.  
> A trip to Edinburg next, and the surface plot will start to show.

***

 

**Simon**

The rain season is off again this year. Every year the climate has been getting more and more turbulent. It’s all the carbon being released into the air, pulled out of the ground from their millions of years of confinement as minerals and fuel. In a way, Simon thinks it’s very similar to the holes, the way the Normals are draining nature so rapidly. The output must match the input, after all, that’s the most basic law of equilibrium. 

 

His confidence in the survival of the natural and magical world is high, though, he’s just not sure if the  _ people _ will survive the result of the disruption. 

 

Pulling back from his new perch by the window, he faced the room with a long sigh. After two long weeks, they finally managed to unpack everything. They bought some shelves from a local furniture store, the more expensive, solid wood kind because Baz refused to have any of that cheap imported stuff. Baz also tried to magic the dangblasted shelf onto the wall, but Simon stopped him. This is just a rented flat, it’d be a hassle to have to pay the deposit if they couldn’t get the shelf to come off when they move. Now the shelf creak, but that’s alright as long as they keep only light things on the plank. Simon was hoping the weather would hold out while he cleaned the flat today, while Baz is gone to take care of some minor business, but no luck. He supposed he’ll just ask Baz to  **clean as a whistle** the place when he gets back instead.

 

Whenever he actually gets back. Baz’s work schedule is… peculiar. 

 

Though Simon isn’t 100% clear on the mechanics of Baz’s work, he’s visited ‘the joint’ enough to know the gist. After the Mage’s death, the ill-plots of him using the vampires to stir unease in the Magickal World came to light, and the community realized that they’re either on the edge of having to massacre all vampires, or they’ll have to reform their relationship with the more harmless ones. Along with the establishment of various social welfare departments, came the proposal of proper laws government the actions of dark creatures within both magickal and normal communities. The Pitches immediately volunteered themselves, headed by Fiona Pitch for her achievements as a vampire hunter, to act as the overseers of any ‘illegal’ vampire activities. Vampires will still be hunted if they hunt humans, but they’re also allowed to set up safe spots within society for them to gather resources necessary to survive. 

 

That’s where Baz’s new business came in. Connected with normal butchers and markets, ‘the joint’ -officially known as the Black Soup Kitchen- supplies local vampires in various cities with the fresh blood necessary to sustain life. Because vampires cannot get nearly as much energy from blood that’s older than a day or so as they would from fresh kill, it would have been too suspicious if people constantly visited and then exited places like blood banks with suspicious containers. Simon thought it was bloody brilliant of Baz to think of disguising the blood supplier spots as actual markets as well, because not only do vampires also require normal food, it would be easy to screen Normals out of the blood stash if they don’t know what this place is for. 

 

However, due to the nature of the business, the hours Baz has to put in is irregular. He’s mostly in charge of the financial and planning side of the business, overseeing the operation under the Pitch’s name, but he still gets called in every so often in the unholy hours of the night whenever there’s a supply issue. It’s still more comforting than thinking that Baz is running amok somewhere in the woods, or in the basement of their flat, hunting game. At least it’s ‘legal’ now, or whatever. 

 

Simon’s phone pings. It’s the newest model, a gift from Baz, and he tapped the screen lightly to display the message. It’s just so much faster to send a text message instead of a bird now, birds don’t have emoticons. 

 

‘15 min.’

 

Short, to-the-point, basically exactly how Baz always worked. There was once when Baz texted more than ten words at once, and that was when he had to go away for two weeks because of a family situation. Baz couldn’t call until the late hours in the night, but he could sneak messages out whenever the meeting drags on into just senseless quibbling. Simon couldn’t tag along because of school, and the Pitches didn’t want outsiders in on the meetings.    
  
Outsider, even though he’s still registered as the Mage’s Heir even now. Even though he has inherited everything from the Mage that passed through the Coven’s security checks. A lot of books, documents, too dangerous for Simon to keep, were taken, but he still inherited many interesting treasures and even older journals from his guardian. Simon hadn’t gone to the vault even once to check what exactly is under his name. 

 

Putting his phone back in his pocket, the heir of the deceased Mage heads off into the kitchen. The last of the cookwares had only been put away last night, and he seriously hoped that he remembers where everything is. Penny has been drilling him on how to cook for the last few years in preparation for this, because not only is Baz extremely flammable, he’s also a total hopeless case in the kitchen. Somehow he had set a pot of water on fire the first time they tried to make pasta. Water. On fire. The second time, Penny had to  **Back to start!** the place twice before the angry landlord came knocking. Between Penny’s quick thinking, and Baz’s devilish charms, the landlord was convinced that Simon was feeling faint while carrying a lot of heavy things, that there had been some sort of crazy rescue-accident onto the floor instead of a kitchen explosion. 

 

Baz was banned from all cooking since then. Anything with an open flame, at least. We’re not so cruel as to deny him of even the toaster oven. 

 

Simon checked the time, and got the kettle started just as he brought out the pans. 

  
  


**Baz**

 

He could smell dinner before he even entered their floor. Demonic Saints below, Snow is making beef stew, there is no lying to his vampiric senses. He texted his boyfriend only fifteen minutes ago, and somehow Simon Snow managed to procure the beginnings of a stew for him already. When he entered through the front door, and the rush of delectable meaty scents mixed in with the floral notes of herbs hit him square on, he instantly forgave Snow for hogging the bathroom and stealing his bathrobe this morning. 

 

“I’m back,” he said, as though the kitchen window isn’t right by the walkway and therefore any visitor would be noticed from the kitchen before they reached the door. It’s useful for guests, and even more so for unwanted guests, but unfortunately the window looks in both ways. 

 

Snow was wearing the Mickey Mouse apron and mitt set that Micah had sent them for Christmas last year, looking radiant as usual as the warm kitchen light bounces off his honeyed skin. Snow was still wearing that stupidly adorable looking bandana on his head, he must’ve forgotten to take it off after cleaning.    
  
Baz looked down awkwardly when he realized that Snow has been  _ cleaning _ , and he’s just standing there trekking mud onto the hallway like a git. He was in such a hurry home he forgot to cast a spell on his shoes as well.

 

He’d never admit to being a git though, or careless, even though he can hear the gentle thump of Snow’s tail batting against the floor. Snow was getting miffed about this, and for a moment he wanted to keep walking into the house like this just to piss him off. Old habits die hard, but he wouldn’t risk stew for messing with Snow like this. The price isn’t worth it.    
  
“ **_Clean as a whistle!_ ** ” he sighed, and he felt Snow’s gaze on his wand tip as the mud and dirty rain water whirled away into nonexistence, along with the spots on the floor. “Better?” he asked, faux-exasperated, even though the demand hadn’t been vocal.    
  
Snow just snorted at him, and came over to take his coat off his shoulders to hang behind the door. It’s already summer, but rain is still chilling for a dead creature such as a vampire. Snow used to tease about vampicicles, until he chanced upon a report from Professor Bunce about its very real possibility. Baz is pretty sure that for all the teasing he does, Snow is terrified at the thought of losing him, and he almost felt bad for not being able to come up with something to say to ease his concerns. In the instances of being wandless, the only magic he would be able to use is fireballs in his hands, and there are obvious reasons why he will never use that. 

 

“You look tired,” Snow suddenly said, already back in the kitchen and not even actually looking at him. Baz couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. He supposed there is no actual way to hide anything from Snow at this point in their relationship. The boy has spent his entire life in Watford trying to read him and his schemes, and their entire relationship doing pretty much the same thing. That’s more than half their lives together, already. 

 

Baz could only nod. There’s no point trying to fib his way out. It wasn’t like it was something seriously worrying that he  _ wouldn’t _ want to tell Snow. “Some numbwits royally screwed up a few orders, so our supplies were backed up in the next three towns,” he replied, pulling over a seat at the breakfast bar just so he can watch his boyfriend cook  _ for him _ . The tip of Snow’s long tail twitched a little in acknowledgement, and to this day Baz isn’t totally sure Snow is conscious of his appendages’ actions. “Turns out two of the blokes just didn’t show up to work at the shipping site this morning,” he continued, mostly to the salt-shakers at this point. “Doesn’t sound like they would’ve bailed the job. We’re looking into it.” 

 

_ We _ , as in Baz and his staff members. Not Snow. Snow has always been enthusiastic about helping anyone and everyone ever since they were young, and ever since he started in university, it’s like he’s in a rush to see as many new things as possible. Baz knows that Simon is growing a fondness for traveling, and he does try to take him along whenever he’s got a business trip scheduled, but adult responsibilities make that quite a chore sometimes. He’s not sure if he missed their younger days, when the sets of responsibilities on their shoulders were different, but the hormones running rampant in their brains told them they could do whatever they felt was right. 

 

It’s almost like Snow read his mind. Baz is starting to have suspicions about that lately, but he didn’t let it show on his face as he watch Snow turn around to shoot him an amused smile. It’s one-part heart-clenching and two-parts irresistible, and he’s given no choice but to take the challenge and actually get up from the stool. “What’s that laugh for, Snow?” Baz countered, stalking over like an idle predator as Snow just turned away again to stir at the pot.    
  
“I’m not about to run out by myself to check on another town’s vampires,” Snow defended, his wings clearly getting riled up as his body debated on leaning into Baz’s arm snaking around him, or getting ready for some sort of attack on his ribs. “That was one time, Baz.”    
  
It was not one time, and there will not be another. 

 

“Sure,” Baz responded, his voice schooled to the perfectly bored tone he used to use to irritate Snow. It used to work, too, but now it just makes Snow half-laugh before leaning in to meet their lips together slowly. Baz is okay with this change of effect, really.    
  
“Shut your batty mouse and set the bowls out already,” Snow retorted, but the smile never left his face, so it didn’t really leave Baz’s either as the vampire went off on his mission. His Simon cooked him dinner, how could he refuse any request? (Even without dinner, Baz still would’ve done anything asked of him by Simon, truth to be told.) 

 

Dinner was set out soon after, a strong mug of tea for both of them, and Snow didn’t even ask him if he needed to feed. He must’ve felt that his skin was warmer. Sometimes Baz wondered why didn’t Snow use some of this attention for details during his years at Watford, but he knew better than to tease about that. Snow was quiet though, a little too quiet, so the vampire couldn’t help but half-expect the question before it came:   
  
“But I can come along with you, right?” Snow grinned, and it’s that sinfully endearing way where it felt like every feature on his handsome face  _ glows _ . They just glow, and it’s as hard to look away as it burns to look. Moments like these made Baz wonder why he ever even thought that Snow lost his light when he lost his magic. It’s definitely still there, and it burns so good.    
  
“Snow…”   
“You said not  _ alone _ , Baz,” Snow was quick to stop him, he has always been. “I’ll be tagging along with you. I’m mostly done with my next report, and I still have time until the deadline. It’s  _ fine _ ,” he emphasized, leaning forward in his seat eagerly. How is this a grown man of 24 again? 

 

Baz sighed. He doesn’t fight battles he cannot win, and any battle against Snow is an inevitable loss, depending on perspectives.    
  
“Fine.” Snow grinned wider. “But you’re wearing the cross the whole time, understand?” Snow nods very rapidly, and Baz felt a familiar vein tick in the back of his head, which is being very hypocritical to what his flipping heart is doing. 

 

“I’m serious, Simon.” 

 

***

 

**Simon**

 

It’s a trip! It’s been a while since he went on a trip with Baz. He’s been so swamped with work, April and May are always the months when the higher up’s want  _ all  _ the data compiled and ready for presentations, and it’s bloody awful. He never really thought about what he was going to be once he grows up, but he is pretty sure it wasn’t someone swamped with  _ paperwork _ . But here he is, independent, and pushing pencils over numbers to be charted over a topograph of the entire UK. 

 

Still! It’s a trip, and it has been so long! It wouldn’t be more than two-day trip to Edinburg and back, but Simon didn’t care. As much as there is to get done here in London all the time, he doesn’t get to socialize with as many people from their world as he’d like. While he might not be lonely for socialization or anything, he misses the Magickal World outside of Professor Bunce’s office, outside of his monthly meeting with his doctor from Chicago.    
  
Penny was right all along. If you didn’t meet the right people during Watford, you really might get isolated from the magickal community once you’re out. 

 

Thank the Crucible that he got stuck with Baz. 

 

“Baz, should we pack soap?” he called out from the bathroom that night, which is really just another code for ‘are we staying somewhere or are we just going?’

 

He waited for a minute, before Baz was in the bathroom with him, opening one of the lower drawers under the sink to pull out one of the stolen hotel soap bottles from a baggy. Penny always snitched those whenever she stayed somewhere with her family, or Micah, but she never wants to keep them for anything. She just keeps them, ‘just in case’. “Make sure you get the cross on,” Baz reminded, because Simon always forgets.

 

Simon grinned, and rewarded Baz’s helpfulness with a quick kiss. “What a good boy you are,” he teased, his grin widening, but his eyes narrowed meaningfully.

  
  


**Baz**

 

On second thought, Snow can put on the cross  _ after  _ tonight.

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More domestic interactions.  
> Then, the action begins.  
> Warning, next chapter has more detailed violence.
> 
> The cursing gets a bit more colorful, plus there was violence, so I'm upping the ratings.

***

 

**Simon**

 

It was still raining when morning arrived, which is actually favorable for the two of them because Baz always drives first shift. Simon was never the most focused person during most idle times, and he especially shouldn’t be behind the wheel in the early mornings. The morning light outside the window was softened by the gloom of rain, and it was the combination of the gentle drizzle on the roof and Baz’s soft voice that woke him up.    
  
It’s nice. It’s a nice way to wake up. 

 

Baz was feeding out of his usual black mug by the time Simon made it to the kettle like a blind bear fresh out of hibernation, and the vampire was looking decidedly amused as he watched his boyfriend stood there dumbly, waiting for the hot water to finish boiling. Simon smiled when he felt Baz’s cold hands run through his hair though, either tousling his curls some more, or just because Baz wanted to touch them. Baz is as obsessed with his hair as he is with his skin pigmentations. 

 

“Did you pack blood for the trip?” Simon asked in a drowsy murmur, leaning in slowly until he’s nuzzling the other’s hand. Baz’s hands are velvety smooth, hands unlike a real fire-holder’s hands, but Simon likes them just the same. They always smelled of ashes from a bonfire, ceder, and a dash of bergamot. It’s that silly cologne that he uses. His stepmother sends him a new bottle every year at the holidays.    
  
Baz withdrew his hand so he can get his wand and clean up the mug, shaking his head mutedly at Simon as the kettle clicked. Simon went to fix them a tea each, Earl Grey for Baz, with lots of sugar, and the fancy Assam tea bags Penny left behind for himself. No sugar, never milk. “We’re making another stop, then?” he asked, because while he’s sure that Baz has the route already figured out, he still wanted to know. Baz always set things up for him ahead of time, and usually just tell Simon to relax and enjoy the ride. Half the time it’s because he actually needed Simon to seriously enjoy the trip so  **Time flies when you’re having fun!** would work, and the other half is just because Baz is complicatedly sweet like that.    
  
“Leeds,” Baz confirmed, taking their travel mugs down from the higher cupboards to save Simon the trouble of the steppy stool, letting his boyfriend take care of the rest while he went off to bring their bags to the door. “I’ll meet you at the car, remember to lock up.” 

  
  


**Baz**

 

He shouldn’t have let Snow choose the playlist for the drive. 

  
He shouldn’t even have let snow touch his phone at all.    
  
Baz is usually very guarded about his phone, even around Snow. And Snow understands it, he makes a big show about begging for it every time just to feel Baz go soft on him. The vampire forgot to lock his files away this one time, and now Snow found the one thing he didn’t want him to find on his phone. 

 

“Blimey, Baz! Look at all this? How come you have so many love songs on your phone?” Snow was exclaiming next to him, looking cute as a button all huddled up under his car blanket in the passenger’s side.    
  
Baz growled under his breath. “It’s research, Snow. It’s for a new spell,” he insisted, and though it wasn’t completely untrue, the purpose of the playlist hasn’t actually been the same since a few years ago. It had started as a little thought project for him, when they were still in university. Baz figured that since some of the most advanced lessons from Elocution involved putting intensity and passion into words, then there just happens to be a new genre of spells accessible to him.  **On love’s light wings!** had been ridiculously useful in the past, after all. It doesn’t hurt to research. 

 

That was how it started anyways. Then, he found couldn’t bring himself to delete most of the songs he’s heard. It seemed like everything was somehow a song about Snow, even when it clearly isn’t.    
  
Being in love made him stupid, and now he’s paying for that stupidity. 

  
  


 

**Simon**

 

Baz isn’t nearly as discreet and smooth as he likes to think he is. 

 

Simon had an inkling that Baz wasn’t just listening to classical music on his phone during the times he came to stay over, sitting to the side of the couch and just watching him work his deadlines. Sure, Baz is talented with the violin, and he definitely enjoys his fine arts, but no one smiles like that listening to  _ just _ classical music. He thought he heard some sort of slow lyric seeping through the earbuds once when he was on his way back to the couch with a fresh mug of tea for each of them, and ever since then, he has had the suspicion that Baz was listening to stupid love songs. 

 

He always foils Baz’s plans, discovers his secrets. It’s just what he does! And now, he’s going to tease the fresh hell out of Baz about it. 

 

“‘My Heart Will Go On’? Really, Baz?” Simon grinned, impish and clearly entertained as he watched the blood Baz had recently consumed go up to the high points of his sculpted cheekbones while the song played in the speakers. 

 

If Baz isn’t driving, he would’ve kissed the pink. 

 

“You’re such a brooding romantic, Baz,” he continued, ignoring the warning growls coming from the highly embarrassed vampire in the driver’s seat. 

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

Simon Bloody Snow. He’s always like this! Laughing and never thinking enough, and so, so infuriatingly charming with the way he’d throw his head back every time he laughed.  **_Time flies when you’re having fun!_ ** seemed to have doubled its usual potency just with Snow laughing like a loon next to him, and as frustrated and mortified as Baz was, he wasn’t about to take away the one thing making Simon laugh like he hasn’t in weeks. 

 

He always loses anyways, he’ll take his consolation prizes whenever he can. 

 

Still, his boyfriend is an absolute moron. A unforgivingly good looking one, sure, but still a moron. By the time they were passing by Grantham, Snow had already tired himself out like a child and fell asleep under his blanket cocoon. Baz took the phone from Snow’s loose grip then, and placed it back in the extended phone holder hanging on the fan. He turned down the volume, and decided to use the time until they reach Leeds to cool the boiling embarrassment and frustration in his gut. 

 

He’s going to make Snow carry all their luggage in payback, anyways. 

  
  


***

 

**Simon**

 

Leeds is one of those big cities besides London where lots of Magickal folks gather. It’s a bit ironic, considering the geography of the city, but the vampire population in Leeds has skyrocketed since the Coven passed the Vampire Integration Act a few years ago. Just knowing the directions can bring anyone into the most amazing shops hidden and integrated amongst the Normals’ fabric of society, and it’s just generally a really cool place to look at! 

 

Simon  _ cannot _ believe that Baz would make him wait in the car while he goes take care of business. He promised to bring him along to the trip, but apparently he’s more bent on getting revenge for all that teasing about the love song. That is not cool at all. 

 

Still, Baz promised that he wouldn’t be gone long. He’s just stopping by ‘the joint’ branched in Leeds to make sure everything has been proceeding as normal. London and Edinburgh are the two end points for the supply route for the Black Soup Kitchen, and since they’re on a trip to check on Edinburgh’s state, Baz said it made sense to stop at a midpoint as well. Baz is very thorough about his work, and Simon thinks that’s pretty cool. He just wished he doesn’t have to get stuck with car sitting, literally! 

 

Simon could huff and puff all he wants, but really, he wouldn’t get mad or hold it against Baz. 

 

They’ve been together for almost two decades at this rate, and spent half that time going at each other’s throats. There are very little things he would truly get mad at Baz for, saved for the times when Baz would allow himself to be overwhelmed with self-loathing. No one gets to put down Baz. He might be a git, a real asshat too, but he still shouldn’t be stomped down like that, not even by himself. The next half of their time spent together involved going at each other’s throats a different way, and honestly Simon prefers this way better. Sure, it’s still fun to taunt and goad at each other like children every so often, but there’s nothing beating the way Baz would breath the tiniest of sounds as he chase after his kisses like a starving beast. Baz is actually… cute, but Simon wouldn’t say that to Baz unless he  _ wants _ to be stuck sleeping on the couch for a week. The constantly brooding secret vampire prince of the Pitch family couldn’t be called  _ cute _ , after all, that’d be as strange as calling a lethal weapon the same. 

 

That brings Simon’s thoughts to the new concern at hand. It’s uncommon for vampires to just go missing. Even though Baz seemed to think of this as an isolated case, it’s making some old, buried instinct in Simon’s stomach squirm uncomfortably. Mostly every vampire living amongst the major cities are publicly registered now, saved for Baz, naturally, it’s hard for marked and monitor individuals to just leave their district without some sort of paper trail. 

 

_ Unless they were killed _ , came an ominous thought  from the back of his head.  _ Vampires are nothing more than dust and ashes after they’re dead, after all. It’d be easy to lose the bodies. _

 

Simon grimaced. Sometimes his own thoughts scares him. He doesn’t know how Baz or Penny deals with all the constant thinking and theorizing that they do. It’s kind of pessimistic. 

 

_ It’s just realistic. Real tragedies happen, all the time. You’re just coming to terms with it, is all.  _

 

Simon had no retort to that kernel of thought. He was distracted by something outside the window. He didn’t know what made him look that particular direction in the first place, almost like someone had tapped him on the shoulder and pointed it out for him. A girl was running. Black hair, black clothes, and skin abnormally pale. She looked scared, and Simon knows that kind of paleness. 

 

He was out the car door before he could stop to think. Old habits die hard. 

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

He needs to call Fiona, Baz had thought, as he flipped through the missing people report the Leeds’s branch manager handed him. The vampiric community have always been hidden, out of sight and hopefully off the Blacklist. They like keeping tabs on each other, just in case something happens. Something like this. 

 

Between yesterday and this morning, another three vampires had gone missing from the marked communities. Most of them were just newly Turnt’s, none of them have so much as ever hunted on their own. They died into the new age of vampiric integrations, there was no need for them to hunt.

 

Remembering that he promised Snow he wouldn’t be long, Baz glanced up at the clock on the wall of the office before heaving a quiet sigh. Something big was going on, he can almost taste the trouble on his tongue. He should send Snow back home first so he can investigate further. That’s what he’ll do. He’ll have Bunce keep an eye on Snow just in case.

 

Except. Simon was nowhere to be found in the car. 

 

“Fuck.”

 

  
**Simon**

 

He’s a Normal now, it’s not exactly something he can just forget. Just because he’s still technically living with magickal people, it doesn’t mean he’s the same. He can’t use magic anymore, and his sword is long gone-

 

-but even as a Normal, there are still ways he can fight. 

 

“Come on!  _ Hurry _ !” Simon shouted, as a neatly executed high kick slammed the cloaked figure into the surface of a mossy, dirty stone wall. There was the distinct feeling that he snapped some sort of string from another world, another dream, but there wasn’t time to think. “Come  _ on _ !” he repeated, adding more emphasis in his words as the young looking vampire on the ground jolted, seemingly snapping out of whatever shock she was in. He doesn’t understand how she could be cornered by people like this. They weren’t even beasties or anything. When his kicks connected -his muscles complained, but his mind had never felt so young and alive- he knew that he was kicking down normal human beings. Maybe they were just surprised that they were seen at all, or maybe they weren’t expecting a Normal to come flying in and walloping them in the face. Magic or not, everyone takes a surprise kick to the head the same way.

 

Either way, there were more coming, and Simon didn’t think -again- when he grabbed the vampire by the hand and tugged her further down the narrow streets.    
  
Of all the times, of course this is the time he left his phone in the car. Of  _ fucking _ course. 

 

He could hear spells being started up behind them as they bolted down another turn. He has no idea what is wrong with the vampire girl, but she is so slow she’s almost like a Normal. Nothing like Baz at all. He closed his eyes briefly, and stupidly prayed for some sort of a miracle. 

  
  


**Baz**

 

He is going to flay Snow alive once he finds him. Fortunately, he’s a vampire and his boyfriend’s distinctive scent is like a beacon. Unfortunately, they’re in one of the most crowded streets of Leeds, and there are  _ a lot _ of smells all around them.    
  
Still, he ran, tracking down Snow’s scent with the speed and fluidity he used to demonstrated when he still hunted in the woods. It’s been some time since he hunted anything, really. Snow doesn’t like it knowing that he might get caught, but being on a hunt for something other than life makes him feel… exhilarated. He tracked down Snow almost the same time he smelled the scent of magic in the air. Mucky and with strong intent, and as he turned a corner with his wand already out, he arrived just in time to see Snow pull another vampire behind a large rubbish bin. In the same second, the other side of the bin bursted from the impact of the spells. 

 

Baz felt his veins run cold. He almost didn’t make it. “ **_Green light, red light!_ ** ” he commanded, his voice leveled as usual, but sharp like a blade as his wand tip whipped through the air. The group of cloaked pursuers all jerked, and then froze in place like comical statues.    
  
The vampire looked both livid and stoic at the same time as he turned to Simon. He examined panting human first for injuries -he doesn’t smell blood- before even paying the other vampire a glance.    
  
Baz grabbed Simon by the arm, and Simon was still holding onto the vampire girl’s wrist as they were all yanked back out into the main streets, back towards the Black Soup Kitchen. Some of the Normals stared.   
  
“Veronica Walker?” Baz asked, looking straight ahead as the vampire girl whipped her head up in surprise. She nodded. Baz sighed.    
  
Fuck Snow. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

_ Wait, what _ ?

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys weren't expecting this when I said 'detailed violence' in the last summary. So, aggressive (a bit dubcon) making out and then physical violence warning!
> 
>  
> 
> Baz has issues, and Simon won't let him run from them. He just doesn't know how to fix them either.  
> Romantic relationships do not fix everything.
> 
>  
> 
> Felt like throwing in a bit about newly Turnt's.  
> More plot revelations next chapter, the hints are getting more glaring.

***

 

**Baz**

 

Basilton has always been a meticulous, orderly sort of person. He has priorities, a whole list of them, and he has always kept to it in the same orderly fashion he completes the rest of his duties. He’s a Pitch, and what kind of Pitch would he be if not an example of skills and talents to the rest of the world? 

 

Therefore, the moment he dragged his rescued charges back into the office in ‘the joint’, he tossed the vampire girl to his branch manager and locked Snow into the back room with him. 

Priorities. 

 

“ _ You _ ,” he hissed, hair falling over his eyes in the motion as he shoved Snow bodily into the small sofa at the corner. He saw Snow flinch, scrabbling to sit back up despite looking both guilty and sheepish. Aleister Crowley, who else in the world could still make his heart grip in ice and fire like this but Simon Snow? Baz gritted his teeth, and pushed Snow right back down onto the sofa by the time the other got his balance back. Already, Snow is running his mouth, tripping over his own words as usual while he tried to explain why he was out of the car. Why Baz found him in  _ mortal danger _ when he specifically asked him to wait. 

 

Baz was not listening, and Snow clamped up with a tiny noise in the back of his throat as he watched the vampire descend on him over the sofa, straddling him and effectively pinning him down like prey for slaughter. 

 

“Why would you throw yourself out there like that?” Baz asked, though he already knows the reason. He always knew. It’s the same reason Simon Snow the Chosen One used to run out into the dark to meet every trap, every mission thrown at him. It’s the same reason Simon Snow punched and kicked, executing his brand of justice even though he’s just a Normal now. He can’t just  _ go off _ and expect all the problems to be taken care of within a mile radius anymore, but he still does this stupid  _ shit _ . It’s because Simon Snow is brave, and righteous, and so, so good. He is so stupid, stupidly beautiful and beautifully stupid, and it hurts Baz’s heart. It hurts to know that there is nothing he can do to stop Snow from jumping out in front of a bus next time someone is in danger, nothing he can say to make Snow actually  _ think _ when it really counts. Snow never hesitated, he always did what his heart wanted, and the thinking comes much later. However, it doesn’t meant Baz can’t get angry, and he is so  _ angry _ right now he accidentally puffed smoke at Snow’s face. 

 

Snow coughed, and Baz only felt a little bad about it as determined blue eyes glared right back up at him. Never surrendering, always staring straight on. Snow just always keep going. 

 

“I bloody told you! People were chasing her straight into an alley! What the hell was I supposed to do? Make a call and expect everything to still be alright when you or the law enforcement blokes come running in ten minutes later?” he huffed, with almost as much fire as Baz. The vampire felt almost dizzy at the face of it, but he righted himself and seized the indignant human -so human, so  _ alive _ \- by the front of his shirt. The cotton fabric stretched, and Baz’s voice dipped down to the negatives. “You could’ve  _ died _ , Snow,” he deadpanned, but his voice is strained spider threads and cracked glass. “You can’t use magic, you weren’t even armed, for Merlin’s sake! You could’ve  _ died _ .”    
  
That was it. That was, and has always, been the vampire’s priority. It’s awful, and he would never say it to Snow because there is no way Snow can keep loving him at the face of his ugliest thoughts, but he is not good like Snow. Snow keeps going, and he’s afraid he can’t keep up. If he was there, and Snow and the vampire girl were both in danger, he would not have thought twice before saving Snow first.    
  
Snow, on the other hand- he would’ve tried to save everyone else first. Because he’s Snow, and the boy -now man- has always been so ridiculously, foolishly  _ good _ .    
  
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Snow is good and it’s alright for him to be good, but Baz knows that the good dies young. They always do.    
  


Snow was still glaring, still hot and still alight. Very quietly, he replied. “But  _ she _ could’ve died.” 

 

It’s like a match thrown into a bog, or the time he removed the lid from the pot of pasta and everything just exploded, but Baz swore he actually blacked out for a moment because the next thing he knew, Snow was yelping and struggling underneath his superstrength and he couldn’t tell if that was surprise or disapproval. Maybe he’s crushing Snow’s ridiculous invisible red wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. He’s got his lips on Snow’s and it’s so good, it always is, but Snow is still fighting him. “Don’t do that again,” he ordered, but it came out almost like a plea. Don’t run off again, don’t go running straight into death so eagerly. Haven’t they done enough of that already? “Swear to me, Snow. Don’t. Do. That. Again.” He could compel him, he should. It would be very illegal but it would be the only thing that keeps Snow from running back into the fire as he does all the time. He could bound him into an oath, but he’s not even sure if that works with Normals.    
  
He kissed Snow again, harder, more desperate, like if he pushed hard enough he would be able to knock through that thick skull and make him see sense. He always loses though. He always loses. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

He has never seen Baz like this in daylight. 

 

Broken glass and strained wires do not ever suit Baz Pitch’s voice, but it sounds unimaginably worse when he knows it wasn’t caused by just another nightmare. They used to huddle together in the dead of the night during times like that. The nightmares don’t come as often now, but sometimes, the glass of those grey eyes still cracks. He still couldn’t get Baz to see some sort of specialist, and sometimes Simon is scared he won’t be able to help his boyfriend, his ex-rival. Baz is still so sorry for him, and he is so sorry he is sorry, he holds onto Simon during those nights like he’s made of glass and pretends he isn’t crying.

 

But Simon isn’t broken glass anymore. He’s never going to be that again. Sometimes he still feels like he’s living another person’s life, like the water from a crack glass had spilled out, and someone placed down another one for him to catch what was left. He was the manufactured error in the hero production of the world, but like his doctor from Chicago had said, he wasn’t going to stay pieces forever. Life is fire and the wind, and ashes and dirt, and the endless cycle of water that circles the Earth. Everything alive  _ dies _ , even powerful Mages, even immortal vampires, and even Simon Snow. 

 

He’s not running, he’s only ever going to go forward.    
  


“For Christ’s sake, Baz,” Simon growled, when he can, between each assault on his lips. It would be so easy to give in. Baz had caught on years ago that kissing worked as well on shutting the vampire up as it does on Simon himself, but at the same time, they aren’t kids anymore. “Listen to me, Baz!” Baz was still not listening, and the grip on his shirt collar started tugging down, and the kisses grew aggressive, dominating. 

 

Simon has just about had it up to here. 

 

“ **Your attention, please!** ” he called, and though there is no push of magic at all -there hasn’t been in years- in his voice, Baz still instinctively flinched and stopped. Simon doesn’t have magic, sure, but he sure as heck wasn’t lacking in  _ intent _ . “You can bet your buttocks I’m going to do that again, Baz,” he challenged, and the vampire growled, but Simon was already in motion. Grabbing Baz by the vampire’s neat shirt collar, Simon slammed his head of curls straight into the vampire’s nose. There was a faint crack as the impact connected. Baz’s nose has always taken up way too much space on his face, so that made it an easy target since they were still in Watford. There’s a reason Baz’s nose is a bit crooked on the bottom, after all. 

 

That was enough to stun Baz, who jolted back both to lessen the momentum and also because of the pain, and Simon shoved as hard as he could to push the stupid, scared vampire off and onto the floor. Poor Baz, but he’s still such a big bully after all these years. How could he not realize why Baz is scared? Baz was there with him that day in the tower, after all, and he knows that the reason Baz shook when he held onto him wasn’t because of the dead bodies. Baz had thought he lost him back there. 

 

“No, Baz, stay where you are!” he insisted, and now it’s Simon who’s straddling the other. Mimicking their earlier poses in reverse, Simon made sure Baz is glaring -and snarling- straight into his eyes before he kept talking. “I’m never going to leave you alone, you twat,” he said, fiercely, and Baz looked a little stunned like he got headbutted in the nose again. They’re both panting, pupils contracted and nostrils flaring as they gauged each other like they’re in a normal brawl. “But I’m  _ not _ going to let you and Penny coddle me forever, darn it. I’m a Normal, not a baby. It’s not like I’m running off to fight dragons every day. I’m just doing what’s right when it’s  _ needed _ !”    
  
Baz was deflating. Simon can tell. The vampire is trying to close himself off again, but he’s had years of experience in jamming a metaphorical foot in the door now, hasn’t he? “Stop that,” he huffed, “stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. It’s not true and you’re stupid.” Before the vampire -the brooding, sad idiot- could flick his gaze away again, Simon leaned in and kissed him. Someone’s got to show Baz how to properly shut someone up with a kiss, after all.

 

“I’m sorry I ran off without thinking, without contacting you first,” he finally said, when he felt that Baz had melted sufficiently against his lips. Their eye contact is back, and he’s going to have to get Baz a tissue for his nose. “I’ll try harder to think before I act next time, but I’m also counting on you to you know, back me up, alright?” he grinned, straightening up.

 

Baz just sighed, like there’s nothing he could say.

  
  


**Baz**

 

How the hell is he  _ ever _ going to win against Simon Snow?

  
  


***

  
**Simon**

 

He felt a bit better when the man- vampire? Manager- of the place didn’t even bother looking affected at all when they actually exited the back room. Baz hadn’t even tried to soundproof the room before they started going at it, so he’s pretty sure the vampires outside heard  _ everything _ . The thought was embarrassing enough that Simon blushed, because the girl vampire sure wasn’t hiding her expressions like the other one was. 

 

“She’s Veronica Walker alright, Mr. Pitch,” said the manager, sounding almost impatient, but very precise. No wonder Baz hired him. Baz always hated people that wastes his time. “She’s been missing from her workplace since last night.” The girl- Veronica, nodded. She looked tired, and honestly Simon can’t blame her. She also looked really young, no older than maybe eighteen, and in her exhaustion she reminded Simon of the children from the Homes. Simon was glad he saved her, from whoever those people were, even if Baz was still visibly ruffled and his nose was only just recently fixed. 

 

They all moved to a seating area in the office, some sort of conference table, and they listened to Veronica recall how she was captured. She had been heading to her workplace last night, a ritzy joint in the club area where she works as a bartender. The group was disguised as Normals, but she could smell the magic coming from them. Against combat capable mages, a vampire like her who has never even hunted stood no chance.They knocked her out, trapped her in some strange satchel that she couldn’t break free from, and it had steadily drained her energy until she managed to escape. According to Veronica, there had definitely been more people that were captured. She had heard them talk and move other cloth muffled things -people- around when she woke up, but by the time she escaped with her pocket knife, she was the only bagged person left in the warehouse by the river. 

 

So she had ran. Whatever the satchel she was bagged in had drained so much of her energy that she needed desperately to feed, but it was also in the middle of the day, and she still had enough sense in her to know not to do that. Veronica was on her way to the Black Soup Kitchen when the mages caught up with her, but it was sheer luck that Simon and Baz were also there. 

 

She was drinking blood from a mason jar when she finished her story, and she was sniffling too. Simon learned that she had been a Normal until last year, Turned suddenly on her way home from work much like today. She has been hanging in there, mostly relying on ‘the joint’ and the community to survive. She was a classic case of tragedy and bad timing. Simon glanced over to Baz, and the vampire looked a bit less stiff around the edges than before. 

 

“So it’s not vampire hunting,” Simon mused outloud, when the silence got stuffy and uncomfortable. He’s not sure if it’s more relieving to know that people aren’t illegally hunting vampires that haven’t been marked for hunting, or if he’s unnerved by the fact people are vampnapping in major cities. Maybe there were more happening in areas that aren’t as monitored by the Coven. 

 

Baz seemed to be already thinking that. Honestly, how is he so smart sometimes? Simon would bet that if he tapped into Baz’s thoughts there would already be a map connecting way more clues from what he had already missed. Baz ‘hm’d after a while, looking up to see Simon still watching him, and stiffly stood up to head back into the back room. Aw, he’s still sulking. 

 

“I’m calling my Aunt. She’ll want to know this,” he declared, turning to leave. However, Simon’s expression must’ve caused a delayed decision, before he turned around again, a bit awkwardly. “Call Bunce. Let the law enforcements know too, “he added, sighing at Simon’s eager nodding like he’s not sure if he’s being indulgent or too lenient. 

 

Simon just grinned.    
  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

So this wasn’t an isolated case after all. Things are just never this easy, and by the time Baz was done with talking to Fiona Pitch, he knew he’s sending Snow straight home one way or another. 

 

Edinburgh and Leeds are definitely not the only two cases with vampires going missing. In the 27 major watch points between London to even the Isle of Man, there had been 15 cases of vampires going missing since last week. Normally, that wouldn’t have escalated the attention of the vampire hunting team to this extent, but three of the vampires that went missing were on the List. By the time Fiona’s team had stalked the wanted vampires to their hideout last night, there were only signs of a struggle left, and small spots of sludge colored blood. Vampire blood. 

 

There is someone, a whole organized group of them, capturing vampires live -undead, technically- for no apparent reasons. There hasn’t been any obvious discrimination in their selections, it seemed like the kidnappings just happened in spurts. A few would disappear simultaneously from vampire communities as though they were captured out of nearby convenience and no other specific criterias, and though it’s unsure if it’s entirely related, it seemed like some halflings have been going missing too. 

 

Ever since the Mage’s reform, anyone -even with half blood- could get a magickal education if they spoke magic, and that had allowed the social statuses of people that had been previously treated as a subclass to improve. The Coven, now regulated with actual laws and law enforcement, would’ve punished anyone that harmed these people without due causes. This was all sounding very abnormal, and it leaves a bad aftertaste in his mouth just thinking about why people would need to kidnap vampires and halflings. He couldn’t help but think about the very illegal cookbooks in the Pitch libraries again. 

 

Fiona warned him to be careful when he investigates, because he would fall under the current target criteria. She was going to contact the Coven tomorrow, but she promised she’ll get the report through by the end of the day. She also promised to stay in contact, and made Baz promise to call if anything else came up.

 

Priorities. 

 

Re-entering the office with the intention of telling Snow to take the train home first, Baz didn’t manage to get a single word out before Simon cut him off first. “Professor Bunce wants me to go to the survey sites for the smaller holes near Melrose, he said the team there just sent him a message that one of the holes closed up last night,” Snow said, looking both thrilled and concerned at the same time. Clearly, Baz has been a good influence, because Snow was actually thinking. Probably the same thing Baz was thinking at the same moment: that doesn’t sound normal. The original expected wait time for even the smallest hole to fill up naturally was another fifteen years. Nature doesn’t just bounce back over night, it never has. “Can we take a detour?”

 

Well bloody hell. He can’t actually say no to Snow when he looks like this, can he? Besides, this is-

 

“Come on, Baz. This is official business.” 

 

Damn that inflammably handsome smugface. Maybe Snow actually thinking before he speaks isn’t always such a good thing after all.

  
***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So things get a bit graphic in this chapter, but I won't go into gruesome details until the next one so you have been warned.   
> One of you guys actually guessed the plot (pretty close) already so I'm really impressed. I was so sure no one has thought of this yet. 
> 
>  
> 
> Honestly...  
> I'm not happy about how this chapter turned out, but there is a ton of plot stuff crammed in and hopefully this will make the next chapter roomier.   
> I'm hoping to dress the boys in some fancy suits soon, and introduce Penny into the plot.

***

 

**Simon**

 

Thank the realms Baz relented, because Simon was sure that his boyfriend was about to get all mother hen on him and try to send him home. Baz  _ hated _ it when there’s danger coming near Simon, and Simon hated how useless that makes him feel. It wasn’t like he can’t protect himself just because he can’t use magic anymore. He knows when to run when things get bad, honest!

 

Still, Simon couldn’t help but feel a rush of anxiety welling up from the pit of his stomach as he shifted in his seat. It was his turn to drive now, while Baz catches a break and maybe take a nap until they get to the survey site in Melrose. It is scientifically impossible for magic to have returned to any of the holes this soon, impossible. But, magickally…

 

He shuddered to think of what must’ve happened in the world for a hole to have closed up though. There have been many theories published since the end of the War about the formation of the holes. The majority of these theories drew upon older evidences from before the Insidious Humdrum. It has been recorded in the past that, in the presence of powerful Mages, the magic of other mages might get weaker. Their magic comes from the power of words, and the words came from the development of civilization. Society builds upon the language and words spoken, and when human society shifts towards one inclination, that type of word magic becomes more powerful. At the same time, the magic in the air is environmental. It’s like how plants and algaes produce oxygen across the world, and the oxygen diffuse across the atmosphere for everyone to breathe. Magic is the same. It’s also a positive feedback loop. The basic theory is simply, honestly, and it applies to why so many of the newer generation mages prefer to use ‘memes’ and pop culture references as the basis of their spells instead of ones with more history. Society is forgetting the past, and the Mage was right all along.  _ Languages evolve _ . So, the mages must evolve with them.

 

That led to another curiosity Simon never brought up. Baz had told him in the past that magic involving the creation of life takes a lot more out of mages than other types of spells.  _ ‘Food and flowers, things that came from life, they take live to make,’ _ Baz had explained, during one of their late night discussions, doing idle research to help Penny figure out new spells. That always made Simon remember the time the Humdrum sent Baz after him. He was never actually sure what happened, and he’s sure that Baz himself isn’t clear either, but the Humdrum had said he placed ‘nothing’ in Baz. That had made Baz hungry, very hungry. He thought the Nothingness that the Humdrum wielded was exclusive to magic. Was magic the same as food for Baz? Is blood the same?

 

It wasn’t something Simon could just casually discuss with Baz though. He doesn’t enjoy thinking about these complicated things, and he was always worried that he’d say it the wrong way and end up hurting Baz somehow. Baz still loathes himself for what he is, and he’s always so, so careful with his fangs when they touch. Simon may be thick, but it’s not like he tries to be.

 

The only real way to get a sense of what happened would be to actually go to the survey site though. While he might not be able to feel the magic -or the lack of- in the holes, he would still be able to read the data coming off the equipments, and Professor Bunce’s assistants’ reports. Maybe Baz would be able to give them some insight too, being brilliant as he is.    
  


Simon just wished that if they could see the hole, supposedly filled up again, the bad feeling in his gut would go away.

 

“Alright, Snow?”    
  
Simon jerked a little, glancing quickly to his left to see Baz watching him, the car blanket that Simon had been using before now draped lightly over the vampire’s lap. Baz always needed so much leg room that his seat would be pushed all the way back, as far as it would go, but Simon still managed to catch Baz’s eyes before he turned his attention back to the road.

 

It was still drizzling, and the traffic is slow and wet.

 

“Guess I’m just excited,” he replied, and it’s true. He’s most certainly excited about going to the site for himself. He had been so relieved, when the math churns out from three separate equations all promising that even the largest of the holes would fill back up before the end of his generation’s life expectancy. It’s nice to know that his generation, who was the first to grew up knowing nothing but the terror of the Humdrum -because of him- would be the last as well. If the holes closing up was natural, then there would be nothing more Simon could ask for.

 

Baz huffed, disbelieving, but also grouchy from all the driving and the earlier excitements. He put on his sunglasses, some branded sporty ones that Simon didn’t remember seeing Baz pack, and leaned back in his reclined seat. He’s clearly going to sleep. Simon smiled a little as the windshield wipers flicked in front of him, and tried to drive smoother for Baz’s sake.

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

Baz was reconsidering letting Snow drive. It was obvious that Snow was affected by the news of the holes. He has always been. His tail won’t stop flicking around, from where it has extended into the back seats through the side. Baz wasn’t sure if he should feel worried about the news, or just keep sulking about the bit of tantrum he’s had. Because, he can’t deny it, that’s exactly what had happened. He went off on Snow like an insecure child, and as usual, Snow tried to fix things in that Snow branded way.    
  
Crowley, he loves this boy too much. No Pitch should be this easily affected. No wonder his father still manages to look constipated when they stayed over in Oxford last spring, for his stepmother’s birthday. He must’ve acted like a total goof around Snow.

 

Snow was still so guilty about technically being the cause of the Pitches going magickally homeless that Christmas. Every time anyone so much as bring up a topic near the incident, he would droop like a dog that got severely admonished. It made Baz want to kiss him and drive him straight home. Their home. Back in London.

 

Every single time they hear a story about how some mage had to move from their old homes due to holes forming around them, Snow would look guilty. He’s about as good at hiding emotions as a small child, and it doesn’t help that Baz is so tuned in to keeping Snow happy by now that even  _ he _ has trouble keeping a straight face when Snow gets like that. He just figured, the world had already put too much on Snow’s shoulders. His boyfriend is still as broad shouldered as he ever was, broad hands, broad nose, even his smile is broad. However, there is no density in Snow’s bones. He’s like a hollow ship sometimes, with his bird boned shoulders and chipped laugh. He’s not meant to shoulder all the weight, but he had always carried on as he was expected to. After everything that had happened, they were finally allowed to live, and Baz personally thinks of it as a cosmetic offense if anything in this realm made Simon Snow stressed or hurt again.

 

Everything will be  _ fine _ though. Baz will make sure of it. If the worse comes to worst, he’s prepared to take the money they have been saving up -forget his parents’ support- and whisk Snow straight to another continent. It doesn’t matter where they go, as long as it keeps Snow safe.

 

***

 

Baz didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until they arrived to the survey site. Snow’s not a bad driver, but he’s always had trouble with parking in a straight line. The car squeaked a bit when the brake was pulled upon the wet, gravelled floor. It’s still raining out, and their site is coincidentally next to the Abbey ruins.

 

They had to park a ways off from the actual museum grounds, where a mobile office has been set up under the guise of monitoring the soil quality, or some other excuse that the Normals would accept. The site is at the edge of the hole, or where the hole used to be in this case. Baz frowned when Snow rolled down the windows a little. It’s cold outside, and the air smells of something burnt and bitter.

  
  


**Simon**

 

Something is terribly wrong.

 

Simon can’t quite place his fingers on it, but something felt off about this site the moment he drove close enough to see the mobile office. Maybe he has grown some sort of instinct from all the sites he has examined in the past, or maybe it was the unnatural news making him see things differently. Whatever the case, he felt the impulse to roll down the windows, even though it’s dreary and wet outside.

 

The air smells wrong. He can’t put an actual smell to words. It’s nothing different compared to wet grass and dirt if he really sniffs at the air, but if he breathed any deeper he felt like he would choke on it.    
  
“Baz,” he called, turning to his side and reaching over to shake the vampire awake, but Baz was already up and sitting straight. The vampire was frowning behind his shades, which were taken off soon as Baz handed him an umbrella from the back seat. The signal wasn’t spoken, but Simon knew that Baz is also sensing something strange. “Come on,” he sighed, watching Baz fuss over the position of his wand in his hand before they exited the car, blue umbrella opened up to keep the light drizzle at bay.

 

“This isn’t normal,” Baz said, wrinkling his nose like he smells something foul in the air. Simon took his word for it, because if Baz said something was wrong, then he’ll definitely trust him on it. They headed into the office, which is just a small mobile space that Professor Bunce must’ve rented. The truck that must’ve moved the office here is parked to the side.

 

Two of the Professor’s assistants were huddled around a table, and they jerked up in surprise when Simon and Baz entered the office. Instantly, there were three wands brandished within a second, and Baz was in front of Simon within a heartbeat, shielding him and ready to attack.    
“Whoa, hey. Calm down, alright?” Simon tried, waving his hands from behind Baz. He can barely see from behind the vampire’s shoulders, because Baz has always been taller than him. One of the assistants was something Simon knew from another survey site, a second year graduate student studying under Professor Bunce. His name was James. Simon decided to try to get through to him first. He doesn’t think he has ever seen James look so worry. “James? It’s me, Simon!” he tried, because the last thing he wanted was everyone firing spells at each other all at once. “Professor Bunce should’ve told you guys I was coming up, right? Put your wands down!”

 

There was a moment when the two assistants looked at each other, silently communicating with their eyes, before they lowered their wands. Baz followed, but much slower. He didn’t put his wand away completely.

 

Simon sighed, and pushed at Baz until he’s released from behind his boyfriend. “What’s going on here?” he asked, approaching the two even though Baz made a distinctly unhappy noise and stuck to him like glue. He could almost hear Baz’s voice in the back of his head, telling him about how he need to be more careful because he can’t use magic. It’s not like Baz could use magic in a hole either, or anyone, really. So there’s that, everyone is the same inside holes.

 

James sat the other assistant down, and re-introduced themselves to Baz and Simon. “I’m James, and this is Huynh. We are actually stationed in the Newcastle hole, but Professor Bunce sent us over the same way as he sent you. We’ve been short on hand, so there aren’t enough people going around each site.”

Huynh, who still looked positively shaken from the confrontation, nodded stiffly. “The researcher in charge of this site is actually Gwen,” he said, his voice with a bit of an American accent that Simon instantly recognized. He sounded like Micah when he spoke. “She’s from the same exchange program as me, actually, but we couldn’t find her when we got here.” He’s looking left and right anxiously now, as though Gwen would just pop out of a closet and yell ‘surprise!’ at them all. “We found a patch of burnt ground in the center of the hole this morning. We sent the carbon samples back to the lab already, but  no Gwen.”

 

“Maybe she’s gone to town?” Simon suggested, though he knows that the likelihood of something so convenient happening isn’t high. Surely this Gwen must be  _ missing _ for the assistants to act like this. James and Huynh both shook their heads. “When’s the last time you heard from her?” Baz suddenly interjected, even though he has been silent the whole time.    
  
James looked up, and then to Huynh. “I think she called Professor Bunce last night, telling him that the magickal readings from the sensors in the holes all returned. She must’ve gone into the hole to investigate,” Huynh reasoned, but he still looked uncertain. “Her car was still here, but a set of equipments were checked out of the locker. She was definitely here, but she’s nowhere in the hole. She couldn’t have just left without her car.”

 

Huynh is looking down at his hands now, shaking his head. “She couldn’t have.”

 

Simon thought it was strange. Even if someone did go missing from a survey site last night, it’s still too early for the two of them to be tense like this. They clearly think something worse is happening, but they’re not saying it. When he looked up at Baz, Simon realized that Baz also seems to think something seriously bad is happening. He hasn’t seen Baz so tense around a hole in a while. “We’ll go take a look,” Simon offered, heading to the lockers to check out some gears himself. There is a radio attached to the equipment each member of a survey team would get, but in Gwen’s case, it was useless because she was the only one stationed here when she went out last night. Simon strapped the utility belt around himself easily, the motion basically a habit by now, and he nodded to Baz once he checked the batteries in the portal sensor. James and Huynh still looked ruffled, but they promised they’ll be in the office to take their radio calls in case anything strange is spotted.

 

Simon has a bad feeling about this. First the vampires are going missing, and then halflings, and now apparently a researcher. All in the same time a hole filled up?

 

Exiting the office to head into the former hole, Simon turned to Baz. “What do you think?”

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

Baz has no idea what the numbers coming off Snow’s handheld device means, but he  _ knows _ for sure that this magic in the hole isn’t normal. “The magic here feels like burnt rubber,” he tried to explain, frowning as they ventured further inside, following a GPS in Snow’s hand. “It sticks to me, and it’s… it’s not right. It’s like someone had spent a whole lot of magic at once, but instead of the smell spreading out, it’s just stuck in a locked room.” Snow nodded, like he actually knows what Baz is talking about. Compared to the vampire, Snow is actually much more fluid when it comes to doing his work in the holes. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he can’t feel the magickal shift between inside and outside the holes anymore. Still, even Snow was looking worried, and Baz almost wanted to ask him to translate the numbers, but that would make him feel stupid.    
  
His pride hasn’t quite recovered from the last episode yet. He’ll ask later.    
  
Watching Snow pause here and there, marking down numbers on the GPS and calling back more numbers and coordinates to the radio on his belt, Baz allowed himself to walk around in wider gyres around his boyfriend. There was more than just the smell of strange magic here, which seriously reminds him of how the old dungeons of their Hampshire mansion would smell. It’s bad magic, stale and infertile. He’s not sure if that’s better than having no magic at all.

 

As they moved closer and closer towards the center though, the smell grew stronger. “The air here is weird,” Baz brought up with another delicate wrinkle of his nose. “It’s not moving at all. Did you notice, Snow?” he asked, wondering if it’s just him. “There’s no wind at all. It’s stagnant in here.”    
  
Snow gave him a thoughtful look, before repeating. “Right, like ‘a locked room’?”

 

His sensor started beeping louder, and the numbers grew larger on the screen. Snow and Baz were both frowning, before hurrying towards the designated ‘middle’ of the hole. There was something there, in the grass. The sky was dim and not casting down nearly enough light for Snow to see it clearly, but Baz did. He seized Snow by the arm and held him back, ignoring the indignant “hey!” when that made Snow stumble from his own momentum. “Shit, stay here, Snow,” Baz hissed, his nostrils flaring at the familiar smell of sickly sweetness.

 

Leaving Snow where he is, Baz darted forward, his phone already out and taking photos as he neared. In the center of the hole, there was a seared clearing, a perfect burnt black circle in the grass. The smell of dark magic was strong in the air, strong enough to make Baz feel ill. It felt a lot like standing next to Snow back when he still had magic, that overwhelming strength had rolled off him in waves, but this just feels like standing in the exhaust trail of fifty buses.

 

There are ashes and bits of burnt scraps in the circle, the heat had long left the space, not even smoke was left. But strangely, there was something fresh in the center.

The freshly mangled body of a woman is piled like dirty laundry in the center. She smelled nothing like the rest of the site, she wasn’t even burnt. If Baz squints, he could just make out a pair of bent glasses from the pile.

 

“Baz!” Simon cried, still standing where he was left, but he’s pointing at the trees a ways off. A pair of familiar cloaked figures whisked themselves off into the sky, whipping like ripples in the wind until they’ve disappeared.

 

This is  _ bad _ .

  
***


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for introducing Penny and Fiona at last!  
> The plot thickens like spoiled milk. It's pretty obvious shit is going down around UK.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter, hopefully I'll work in the suits and the sexy stuff.  
> In case anyone is distracted by the Bazness I'm throwing around, remember that Simon is still the main character. He's always the main character.

***

 

**Baz**

 

It was past dinner time by the time the Bunces arrived to the survey site, looking like they had spelled their car to maximum speed the whole time. Bunce -Penelope- didn’t spare a single greeting before she rushed straight to Snow, patting him down like she wanted to make sure Snow was real. Snow just smiled, sheepish as usual, and allowed his best friend to do whatever she needed to reassure herself. Baz can’t really blame her for her insistent worrying, because he’s honestly no better. If their situations were reversed, he would be the one across the room and patting Snow down right now. 

 

Instead of mulling over how Snow seems to be better at accepting Bunce’s concerns but not  _ his _ , Baz turned to the small seating area where the kettle is, and waved his wand. “ **_It’s always tea time,_ ** ” he breathed, and the kettle and tea bags flew upwards, neatly landing into the empty mugs waiting to be filled. He picked up two mugs, and walked over to Bunce and Snow with his best stoic face. They took them easily, like they’re back in the old flat again and this is just another night. But it’s not going to be. Professor Bunce is already talking with James and Huynh immediately, still wearing his damp coat, forgetting to take it off before pouring over the photos and notes that the team has collected. 

 

Premal arrived earlier, along with a small team from the Law Enforcement department. Snow had suggested calling them, because apparently that’s what Law Enforcements are for in the Normal world. Murder investigations. 

 

There was no way the flesh pile in the center of the hole was of natural causes. No way in hell. A quick identification spell had already informed them of Gwen’s fate, but it was strange. Baz hunted almost nightly, so he knows what a fresh kill smells like. Gwen’s body had been freshly maimed, twisted and meshed until there was no air left. Like someone had pushed her body into a trash compactor when she was still alive, but somehow didn’t mold her corpse into any specific shape. It’s like all the air just left. Baz is relieved that he had managed to stop Snow from getting closer back then. It was dark, and darker now. He would prefer it if Snow never even sees the photos. 

 

“The ash and soil samples from this morning just got back from the lab,” Professor Bunce announced, gathering everyone around the study desk, where various stacks of photos and numbers are organized into a folder. The magic within the hole had acted funny, and most of the spells the mages tried to use didn’t work, or were just too weak to have an effect. Their wands were definitely alive though, even though it used to be a hole until yesterday, but the atmosphere isn’t that much better compared to a magickal vacuum. 

 

Professor Bunce glanced at Baz, looking a little uncomfortable before he showed everyone the reports. “It’s vampire. There were three different types of magickal signatures from the ashes. We might find more if we diagram the sample spots more thoroughly… but vampires died there some time between last night and this morning. If we wait any longer, the rain would wash away the rest of the ash.”    
  
Baz was tense, perhaps too tense and too obvious, because Snow was at his side at once, rubbing at his arm until he released a strained breath and relaxed his shoulders. “There have been vampires going missing since last week. We saved one that was almost kidnapped by some suspicious individuals today,” Baz relented. He had wanted to keep the information quiet until Fiona finishes her report to the Coven. “Fiona- Fiona Pitch said she was going to submit an official report to the Coven by tonight.” Snow was rubbing at his arm again, and Baz turned to lightly bump his shoulder against Snow’s in appreciation. He wasn’t scared, just, worried. Something big is clearly going on, and though it’s not rare for dark creatures to occasionally stir up trouble even now, those people had clearly been mages.    
  
Snow beat him to it. “They were definitely mages. They were wearing cloaks and dressed like normal civilians,” he quickly disclosed, even taking a highlighter to mark a spot on the map, where they had seen the figures fly off outside of the charred circle. “They were watching there, but they flew North before we could stop them.” 

 

Penelope was sifting through the photos on the side, frowning. Her hair -hot pink- was tied up in a loose bun on top of her head, and she was chewing on the end of a pencil. “This is a spell circle,” she declared, with an air of expertise. Placing the bird eye view photo of the entire circle, with the lump of flesh still in the center -though it has been moved by now- and the ashes around, she shook her head. “It must be really dark magic. If they had killed vampires and mages for it, it could either be a summoning ritual or some sort of curse. Both of them would be illegal if it involves murders like this.” She nodded, like she’s got it all figured out already, but Baz can smell her fear and uncertainties. “But if what Baz said is right-” Baz glared at her a little. Of course he’s right. “-then there should be more happening. I don’t know how it made magic come back to the hole, or why it’s like this. If only we could use magic properly, then maybe I could reverse the circle and see what it looked like before the ritual was initiated.”    
  
“But,” Snow started, and everyone turned to him, still leaning against Baz and looking at a long record of numbers that recorded the magickal reading within the holes. “Whatever they did, it didn’t pull magic in from the outside,” he pointed out, pointing at a chain of numbers that made no sense to Baz, but he imagined it must have some sort of relationship between the energy level and the location within the hole. “The increase started in the center, like Penny said. It might’ve been a ritual, but it didn’t use any magic because there wasn’t any in a hole. It  _ released _ the magic, whatever it is.” He looked up, and he looked both confused and intrigued. Everyone went quiet, trying to piece together what exactly happened. There is no known rituals that would work inside a hole, and if there were it doesn’t make sense that it would release magic instead of use up the magic in the atmosphere. If it was powerful magic, it would have taken more than one normal mage to accomplish its entirety. 

 

There is a group of mages out there, plotting something highly illegal and killing people and creatures. Whatever the true case was, it was spelling trouble. 

 

“Do you…” Snow was talking again, but no one was really listening to him this time around since he was speaking so quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself. But Baz listened. He always listened to Snow. “... do you think we’ll find more of these in other holes?”  

 

***

 

**Simon**

 

The phone call came at 3 in the morning, rousing Baz first from sleep before Simon managed to get up as well. Instead of heading straight to Edinburgh as they had planned, Professor Bunce suggested that the two of them stay at a hostel nearby the site until things get sorted. There aren’t that many choices to choose from in Melrose, so in the end Baz and Simon rented a room in the same hostel that the Bunces are staying in. Professor didn’t go to sleep, instead staying in the office on site to keep working through the numbers. Baz wouldn’t let Simon stay, insisting that Simon needed to be in a good shape if he’s driving tomorrow. 

 

Simon knows that Baz is just worried he might get caught up in something bad, if he stayed a night on site. 

 

The two of the swatted at each other childishly, mumbling ‘get the phone for me, Baz,’ and ‘get it yourself, lazy bum’ at each other until Simon eventually fished the phone out from the crack between the squeaky mattress and the wall. He frowned a little at the screen. It was Penny. 

 

Simon glanced at the blinking red LED display from the clock by the dresser, rubbing sleep from his eyes as Baz yawned next to him. Baz’s face is still buried against Simon’s middle, a lazy arm slung over his boyfriend’s stomach, but Simon knows that Baz is already listening in on their call with his keen ears. “Good morning, Penny,” he greeted, wondering if she’s in the hostel with them or already back in the office. The sky at three AM was the darkest it could’ve been, with the rain clouds still covering up the night sky. The air was dense with the first heat of summer. 

 

“It’s not good at all, Simon,” sighed Penny’s grave voice. Simon can just make out the sound of the sensors beeping in the background. She must be back in the office, then. Baz turned his head, dropping his apathetic front in favor of watching Simon’s face. “You guessed right, about more of the rituals, actually. We had a few teams go do a routine check around the holes, and there are three more small ones along the coast filled up. Dad didn’t have any teams stationed there because it’s been so long, you know?” There were other excuses in her voice. There wasn’t enough funding. It’s been so long people aren’t as worried about the holes anymore. There was just no point. Simon understands. 

 

“Were they all from last night?” he asked, frowning and moving to get out of bed. Baz is already rolling off to hunt for clothes, and for a moment Simon wanted to ask if Baz needed to run to the nearby woods to feed. 

 

But vampires have been disappearing. So he kept quiet. 

 

“No, the oldest one looked like it’s at least three days old. The rain washed off pretty much everything. If there wasn’t the giant burnt circle we wouldn’t have thought there was a ritual there.” Penny paused, and Simon held his breath. He knows that she knows what he’s thinking. The photos of the mangled Gwen is still fresh in his mind, though surprisingly, it hadn’t shock him as much as the thought it would. It had barely looked human, after all. “We didn’t find any more bodies. It  _ seems _ like Gwen was the first, and the most recent.” 

 

The skepticism in Penny’s voice wasn’t hard to miss, and it made Simon scowl at the implications. “We’ll come on over, then,” Simon decided, thanking Baz silently as the vampire started helping him into a warm jumper. Baz got really good at dressing Simon through the wings and tail. He had even learned some neat tailoring spells to make sure they could pop those bright red wings through shirts without issues. Simon had laughed very hard the first time they tried it, and the holes were so small only the tip of his wings poked through awkwardly. 

 

There was another pause. Penny is usually a firecracker on a rope. She isn’t the type to waste her time dilly dallying on a conversation. There was always so much on her plate, sometimes she doesn’t even wait for a response for a text message, she just calls. “... Simon,” she started, and Simon recognized that tone. He clenched his teeth and steeled himself. Penny sighed, probably reading Simon’s mind or something. Simon’s best friend is scary like that. “Even if we asked you to head home you wouldn’t, huh?” she eventually relented.  _ We _ , not just her. Simon glanced over at Baz, knowing that the vampire was listening in to their conversation the whole time, but he’s feigning disinterest again as he starts making tea at the small kitchenette at the corner of the room.    
  
“No, I wouldn’t,” Simon agreed, jutting his chin out to no one. 

 

“Then head to Edinburgh with Baz now,” she said, and she sounded both resigned and exasperated. Penny would make a great mom, Simon realized. “Baz’s aunt is starting an investigation there. The report came in to the Coven last night. Dad said Edinburgh is the city with the highest rate of disappearances. If there’s going to be a team there, Baz will probably be summoned too. You’ll be safer there.” That made sense. Penny always makes sense. If they can’t guarantee that Simon won’t run off to do his own investigations once they tried to send him home, or even be sure that the danger isn’t near London, it’s the next best thing to send him in with Baz to the highest security area. Penny trusts Baz now, Simon knows. 

 

“What about you?” Simon asked, his concerns were obvious.    
“I’ll be fine. I’m staying with dad and his team. They’re going to the holes at the coast when morning comes. If there are people kidnapping mages, it’s better I stay with dad.” Penny’s father cannot spell himself invisible even in the dark. He never had much magic in him. 

 

Simon nodded, even though Penny can’t see that, and turned to Baz. His boyfriend is already preparing their travel mugs of tea, but he did it by hand so Simon can tell that he’s tired. It’s probably better they head to Edinburgh as soon as possible, then, and get some blood in Baz from one of ‘the joint’s. There is nothing out here for vampires in Melrose, and the woods aren’t safe anymore. “Alright. Stay in touch, Penny,” Simon whispered, wishing that he could cast spells still. He has learned more words in the last few years. He knows some spells to bless protection on people he loves now, but he can’t really use them. “ **Come home safe** ,” he mumbled anyways, before hanging up his cell. 

 

Baz was still watching him, an unreadable look in his eyes. He has spelled his hair slicked back, and looked way too ready for the morning for any sane person. Simon walked on over, and gently wrapped his arms around the other.    
  
He breathed in. Baz still smells of  cedar and bergamot, and a bit of the cheap soap from the motel. They hadn’t planned on needing to back this much, after all. “I’m going to keep out of the way, alright?” Simon declared, peering up at the vampire with bright eyes. “But I want to get to the bottom of this. I  _ need  _ to.” 

 

He knows Baz knows what he’s thinking, and he just wanted to get it out of the way before they hop in the car. Baz’s arms, strong as ever, wrapped around him slowly in a tight grip. The vampire’s face is still hard to read, but it’s softening around the edges as they maintained eye contact. Baz’s eyes are gorgeous, and they pierced a semblance of guilt into Simon. Baz sighed softly, and raised a hand to gently stroke Simon’s face. 

 

“Just make sure you stay close to me,” he breathed, and their lips meet, gently. He’s worried, and Simon felt bad he can’t seem to help Baz relax. He wished there was a way he could kiss that crease out of his boyfriend’s brows. The way Baz looks at him makes him weak in the knees, but sour in the chest. Baz didn’t used to be like this, when they were still in Watford. Or maybe he has always been like this, but he just never allowed himself to worry. 

 

“Alright.”

 

***

 

**Baz**

 

Fiona was glad to see them, as early as they had arrived. She’s always happy to see Baz, and ever since the news got out that Snow was responsible for the Mage’s death, she was more lenient towards the Chosen One as well. It helped that she heard the whole story, about how they were questing to find Baz’s mother’s murdered. Baz is sure that was the main reason Fiona softened up around Snow so much.    
  
Snow, however, still looked as cautious as even when Fiona greeted them at the door of the temporary investigation office. Baz used to tease that Snow never learns, but he has learned -over the years- that it’s never the case. Snow always knows where trouble lies, he just tended to head straight there anyways. 

 

“It’s been ages, Baz!” she exclaimed, decked out in a mixture of mesh and leather. Whatever trend she’s following now led her to wearing highlights in her hair. Baz agreed, it must’ve been a while since he last saw her, because he definitely didn’t remember all the extra piercings when they last spoke in spring. Still, he replied as coolly as usual. “It’s only been three months.” Fiona scoffed, and rolled her eyes as she motioned the two tired boys to follow her inside. The team she’s in charge of has occupied some sort of two storey office building. Even before they entered, Baz could smell the amount of wards plastered around the building. Snow seemed to have sensed -or at least guessed- that there are wards as well, because he flinched a little when he crossed the threshold as though he would be pushed back. He always does this, every time they cross through some sort of magickal entryway, but whatever he’s afraid of never happens.    
  
Baz reached over, and took Snow’s hand in the hand that isn’t occupied by his suitcase. He felt Snow relax just a little at the contact, and felt better. 

 

Fiona sometimes remind Baz of Bunce. Both the women seem to see it as their life mission to defy social restraints, and they are fearless too. Whichever room they storm through, it would’ve been like a tornado had just swept through. It made sense that all of the members from the vampire hunting task force greeted her with such respect. Baz knows that he technically should be anxious, these are the people that hunt people like him, but that’s a hard emotion to muster when Fiona is pointing fingers and ordering these men and women to work. 

 

Snow tugged gently at his hand, and Baz looked over. “We should probably head to the soup kitchen after this,” Snow suggested, and though he was being very discreet about it, both of the Pitches instantly understood the double entendre. Baz realized then that he must look hungry, and that’s not a good look to have around these experienced vampire hunters. “Yeah,” he agreed, as Fiona showed them one of the rooms that were turned into makeshift bedrooms. They will be sharing the small room. “It’s not like like you boys would mind, we don’t exactly have tons of space here,” she had cackled, watching Snow go red at the implication as they dropped their sparse luggage behind. The ‘bed’ was really just a full size air mattress and some sheets stacked together, but Snow didn’t seem to mind. He looked almost nostalgic at the lumpy forms of the bedding on the floor, and also at the cardboard bedside ‘table’. Baz just sneered a little, but knew better than to complain. They’re on a mission here, to get to the bottom of things like Snow said, he’s not going to make a spoiled brat of himself now. 

 

“We’re going to have a strategy meeting at eleven,” Fiona informed them. It’s still too early, way earlier than Snow or Baz’s usual morning hours for sure. “Get what you two need to get done, and come back in one piece. These aren’t no numpties, but don’t get yourself kidnapped, boy.” 

 

Seven years later, and she’s still running with that old joke. Baz hates it. 

  
***


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Guess the sexy got interrupted. ;D  
> I love Fiona, her personality is so spunky.

***

 

**Simon**

 

Baz’s crazy aunt knows they’re fucking, and that always make Simon want to crawl in a hole and spontaneously combust. It’s not that she  _ didn’t _ know about it, no. Everyone in the Pitch-Grimm family knew about his relationship with Baz. Baz had been  _ very _ adamant about oversharing the first time he brought Simon over for Christmas, two years after they left Watford. Penny went to America to visit Micah that winter break, and Simon didn’t feel like staying at the Bunces. He wasn’t even planning on leaving the flat that break, but Baz had dragged him along. Simon thought that Baz was just sick of seeing him mope around every winter, but Baz insisted that he didn’t want to be forced to face the family alone. 

 

That’s not the point though! Baz’s aunt- Fiona, she was  _ implying _ things, and she sort of looked like an older, female version of Baz with a less pretty face and it was embarrassing. She’s always like this, she always says the craziest and most insane stuff every time he met. She also acts like the fact she tried to kill him before was totally normal and dismissable.  _ “Yeah, but I tried to kill you too,” _ Baz would always remind him, every time Simon grouse about it. But it’s different. Baz’s aunt is  _ crazy _ . Baz is just… well. He’s Baz. 

 

Baz must’ve figured out what Simon was thinking, because he started laughing quietly at the steering wheel once they hit the streets again. The car was less noisy without the additional luggage rattling around, and Simon still felt safer knowing that Fiona would be within a short distance if something went wrong. Even if she’s definitely the incarnation of insanity. 

“What’s so funny?” Simon challenged, narrowing his eyes at Baz. He already knew why Baz is laughing, but it doesn’t mean he won’t retort. 

“You should’ve seen your face,” Baz was smiling, and Simon can’t stay angry at Baz when he’s smiling like that. Baz should be the one to see his own face. Baz has the prettiest smile, and the prettiest lips when he’s not doing that snobby sneer, or frowning.    
Simon rolled his eyes. He has no idea how Baz can see it when he’s driving but he still managed to huff at Simon. It annoys Baz when he does that, and Baz would always complain that he’s picking up the bad habit from Penny. They lived together for years, of course he would pick up habits. He picked up Baz’s weird habit of folding his socks into tight little balls after all. Baz also organizes them by color and materials, but Simon never went that far. He prefers to just let Baz do the sorting thing at his own time. 

 

The trip to the Black Soup Kitchen didn’t take more than fifteen minutes, and Simon was honestly surprised to see how modern the storefront looked. The one in London looked like a quaint, remodeled produce shop, but the one here in Edinburgh looked like one of the funky bars Penny likes to visit. It even has its own little parking area behind the building, which says a lot. The branch in London relies on just street parking.    
  
They went to the back room immediately, the manager in this branch also looking like he was expecting Baz. Simon wasn’t surprised. Baz is ridiculously organized most of the time, he probably planned everything out already. While Baz feeds, Simon went over to the staff use tea kettle in the little kitchenette and started brewing them some tea. Baz doesn’t like talking when his breath smells of blood, and they could use more tea for their traveller mugs.    
  
Baz still doesn’t ever make eye contact with anyone when he drinks his blood. 

  
  


**Baz**

 

It’s awkward drinking blood in front of others. There is just no way to look casual while drinking the blood of the recently butchered animals. It’s pig’s blood today, Baz can tell. Snow had looked really awed when he found out Baz -and vampires in general- can distinguish the different tastes of blood. Baz just felt sick to his stomach. Still, Baz supposed that it’s better than crouching over the dirt in some forest, sipping from a freshly slit throat. A little 32oz cup of blood is better. 

 

The branch manager for Edinburgh’s soup kitchen came over, olive skin in stark contrast to the usual pigmentation of vampire complexions. Lewis, Baz recognized. Just Lewis. Lewis claims he doesn’t have a right to his last name anymore. As a vampire, Lewis was older than most of the staffers working in the project, but he was also one of the more respected ‘neutral’ vampires in the country. Most of the younger vampires listened to him, and he had seemed genuinely supportive of the idea to protect vampires in society when the project was proposed. He’s also really good at dealing with the Normals, a special soft skill that most vampires lacked. 

 

Most vampires didn’t even want to go out during the day. 

 

“We may have found a lead with the disappearances, Mr. Pitch,” Lewis said, in his usual monotonous voice. It’s clear that he kept the information from Fiona’s team. Even though Baz knows that Fiona meant well, the rest of her team may not be us understanding. There are still many mages in disagreement with the integration of dark creatures into Normal society. “The two chaps we lost, and a new girl, they were last seen near the clubs. It’s a new club downtown. It’s popular with the young ones lately,” said the soft spoken vampire, handing Baz a membership card and the details of the disappearances. “It’s an exclusive club, only every Monday night. Someone must’ve sold them out.” Violence inside clubs are impossible. Vampire populated clubs or not, they tend to be charmed into a neutral zone. It’s difficult for people to just disappear from clubs like that. They must’ve been napped either right before or right after they went to the club. 

 

Baz frowned a little at the card in his hand as he tossed the plastic cup into the trash. Snow was walking over already, handing him the tea. He thanked Snow absently. “And the reason you’re giving it to me-” he started, suspicious.    
“The card isn’t enough to get you inside, Mr. Pitch,” Lewis explained patiently, like Baz is a child. It irked Baz, but Lewis isn’t someone he should snap at. “You either get a personal nod at the door, or-”    
  
“You need my family name.”    
  
Snow was watching him, so Baz fought down a sneer and drank his tea instead. 

 

***

 

**Simon**

 

They hadn’t packed suits when they started the trip. Or at least, Simon was reasonably sure they didn’t. Baz had done most of the clothes packing. He never lets Simon handle wardrobe choices if he could help it. Simon resents that. 

 

And yet, here they were, all laid out on the bed. “Baz,” Simon frowned, picking up the sleeve of a deep blue blazer from the air mattress. It looked a lot like the one Baz has at home, but then again, he can’t make heads nor tail between all the pieces of a tuxedo anyways. Were these even tuxedos? Simon was so sure tuxes involved like, those waistband things. What even were those called? Distracted by his own fashion confusion, Simon forgot that he called Baz’s name until said vampire came over to bump his invisible wings lightly, making the tawny skinned young man jump. Simon was still frowning a bit as he poked at one of the ties. “We didn’t pack suits, did we?” he asked, voicing his internal confusion. Baz actually laughed at Simon’s expression, to Simon’s indignation, and leaned in to kiss him lightly over the mouth. That worked very well in defusing any negative feelings Simon had. Very effective.    
  
“So maybe I was planning on taking you to some place nice originally,” Baz admitted, the faint smile still sitting on his perfectly dignified face. Simon felt his cheeks heat up even before he fully processed the vampire’s words, and he smirked at his boyfriend. 

“Oh yeah?” he snickered, turning to hook his arms behind Baz’s neck, running his fingers through the back of Baz’s soft head of hair. Baz and his usually coiffed hair would have never let him do this without some sort of payback, but Simon knows that Baz secretly loves it when he plays with the fine hairs on his nape. He would totally mess up Baz’s hairstyle any day just to get a reaction out of him, anyways. 

Baz’s expression dimmed, and it wasn’t from the hair tussling, though he did try to futilely fix his hair anyways. “Yeah, but I guess we’re not going to be going to a very nice place anymore,” he sighed, turning his eyes to Simon. “You’re not going to stay behind, are you?” he asked, snorting a little at his almost rhetorical question when Simon wrinkled his nose at Baz. 

 

There was no way Simon was going to let Baz go alone into a place where vampires have been disappearing. No way in hell. 

“If it makes you feel better, Fiona gave me a sword,” Simon offered, as the only real compromise in the situation. He would feel better having a sword anyways, but a magical artifact that pops a sword out of a lighter? Awesome. “Your family members are such pyros,” Simon added, to lighten the mood. Baz didn’t seem to find much humor in that, still looking grim. 

 

Simon sighed, and turned them around so he can kiss Baz into the wall. 

 

That worked better.

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

When Baz was younger, back in Watford, he used to fantasize about dressing Snow in a suit like this. Ever since he saw the photo- Snow was spending Christmas with the Wellbelove up until their last year, and every year he would attend the Winter Solstice Ball with Agatha. Baz had seen the photo that Snow came back with, and that was the beginning of every heated wank he’s had to take care of when Snow isn’t around. He saw Snow in a suit the Christmas afterwards, and he had been stunned. Snow looked like nothing he had ever seen in a suit. His broad shoulders were designed for the crisp cuts of tight fitted suits, and he was toned in all the right ways from his sword practice. Baz had to try very hard to not gawk during that particular dinner. 

 

Still, Snow cannot tie a tie to save his life, and it’s entirely Baz’s pleasure to do it for him. He never understood why Snow insisted that he looks like a poser in suits, because that was never true. If only Snow could see himself the way Baz can. 

 

“Do I  _ have _ to wear a tie?” Snow asked, wiggling uncomfortably, his Adam’s Apple bobbing seductively behind the highest button on his shirt. Baz shot him a chiding look, like one might to a small child, and Snow stilled reluctantly.    
“There’s no way they’ll believe you’re with me if you’re not,” Baz responded, though in all honestly, Snow  _ could  _ go without a tie. He could’ve wore a vest instead, or something.    
But then again, Baz  _ likes _ it when Snow wears a tie, and he imagined that Snow must’ve caught on to it, because he wasn’t really putting up a fight. He’s just pushing and pulling because that’s what Snow does. 

 

Snow’s also watching him a lot, and it makes Baz feel warmer just feeling his gaze roam over his hair and face. Sometimes Snow’s gaze can actually feel like a laser, or at least a heat lamp, and Baz craves that warmth almost constantly. “Hey,” Snow grinned, that damn sunny smile that just says he’s up to no good, and Baz fought back another sigh as he finished the tie knot.    
“What?” he asked, but there was none of the fire he wanted in his voice. Snow snickered again, like a child, and Baz couldn’t help but smile back as their lips met again. “Don’t mess up my hair,” he managed to squeeze out, but Snow just rolled his eyes dramatically before shutting him up. That was alright with Baz. There were not many things he would prefer to do besides kissing Snow, not to mention Snow  _ in a suit _ . If they weren’t on a mission, he would’ve just locked the room door and teach Snow all about how to properly take off a suit. 

 

Things were warming up in the room rapidly. Baz was sure that he would sooner vaporize if Snow kept looking at him like that. He didn’t even care that his boyfriend was pushing at his demands again and moving his hands dangerously close to his hand. Snow was pushing his tongue in his mouth like he was the one that’s going to drain Baz, and Baz closed his eyes with a soft sigh. They moved in step, from the side of the temporary cardboard dresser towards the bed-

 

-so of course Fiona would come bursting in the next second, making both of them curse and jump apart.    
  
“Alright, stop macking in here and chop chop. We got a vampire kidnapper to catch and no daylight left to burn. Come on!” she shouted, and her voice  _ carries _ like no one else’s. She was clapping her hands together as-a-matter-of-factly, but Baz knew she was timing the intrusion on purpose. Fiona looked gleeful, mischievous. She’s a Pitch alright. 

 

The moment was broken, and Snow was sighing and moving away already, much to Baz’s disapproval. He made sure Fiona knew what he was thinking when he narrowed his eyes at her, but it’s not like Fiona would get intimidated by a _vampire_ , or her baby nephew. “We’ll be right out, Fiona,” Baz gritted, as evenly as he can manage. He swore he heard Snow huff out a laugh on the other side of the room, where he’s packing the lighter into his breast pocket. 

 

As though it would compensate for anything, Snow returned to his side of the room and took his hand, and Baz refused to let it seem like he softened. Oh, the depth he has fallen for Snow.    
  
Fiona just looked plain amused now, turning to head out the door. 

 

“Come on, you disgusting numpties. Get going!”

  
***


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys run into an old schoolmate from Watford during their investigation.

***

 

**Simon**

  
  


It was like that night back at Covent Garden again, when they were first looking for Nicodemus. Simon would always recall that night as their first date, with much fondness, just to irritate Baz. Baz would never agree that was a first date, because Baz is Baz and he liked to think of himself as the master of smoothness and romance. Baz was dressed up then, and he’s dressed up again now. Maybe vampires actually have a dress code, because there’s definitely a trend going on with these vampire clubs. The main difference now though, was the time. 

Instead of going just after midnight, Baz apparently decided to storm the club during the day. His logic had been that if the kidnappers were preying upon vampires, who are most likely going to visit at night, they must be there during the day to prepare.    
  
Simon figured Baz must be too worried about going out at night. There’s an unspoken curfew now, given the time of all the previous disappearances and kidnapping attempts. It’s clear these people worked under the cover of darkness. Baz must be worried that something would happen to Simon, considering his lack of magic and all. But still, he has no idea what is Baz hoping to find in the club during day time. 

Edinburgh is far, far from London. Restrictions about species are weaker here than London, where the Coven converges, where most of the new regulation departments are popping up. Just walking along the streets, Simon can already spot a few part-creature folks hanging around. They’re mostly wearing glamour, though, because there are Normals around and it’s not like they could run around they way they were like students might in Watford. There’s always the need to hide, to keep the Normals ignorant. Simon checked his wings self-consciously. They were still invisible. Good. 

 

Looking around, Simon can tell that the magic is thick in Old Town even if he can’t sense it like Baz can. The bustling city life, mingled with creatures, mages, and Normals, it all brings a layer of saturation in the cityscape. He would love to get a data sample from this area, but too bad he can’t check out some equipments outside of survey sites. Sometimes Simon think about what Penny said before, about reform, about accepting the advancement of the Normals’ culture. There are even online courses for magickal vocational school now. The world is stepping forward, war or not. It makes everything they went through seem so small and insignificant. 

“It’s nice here,” Simon said out loud, smiling to himself. Baz was too focused to turn and look at him, but he nodded anyways. He’s on bloodhound duty again, sniffing and trying to find anything out of place in the area before they reached the club. Though Simon wondered if there’s any point to it. The local vampires had already tried searching, according to Lewis, Baz doesn’t have a better sense of smell than them, does he? 

 

They stopped outside a place that looked like a pub, and it looked modern like the Black Soup Kitchen they visited earlier. All sleek metallic colors and minimalistic designs. Clearly, there’s a trending theme in the city. The pub was closed during the day, but someone still answered the back door when Baz knocked. Baz was tense, but he looked entirely unruffled and cool, that’s usually how Simon knows when a place might be dangerous. Baz always look chill when things are hot. 

 

To both of their surprise, it wasn’t a bouncer that answered the door. It wasn’t even a vampire.

 

It was Trixie.

Trixie. The  _ pixie _ .

  
  


**Baz**

 

A creature was at the door, and Snow recognized her. 

Baz looked between the two of them for a moment, before something clicked in his head. “Bunce’s old roommate,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.    
  
“Ohmigosh! It’s Simon! And Baz!” the pixie squealed loudly, and she was suddenly on them, throwing her arms around them like they had been great friends this whole time, squeezing them tightly in a hug and covering them all in pixie dust. Baz visibly cringed, either at her high pitched voice, or the hugging, or the dust.    
Anything Trixie did, really.    
  
Between the two of them, at least Snow knew how to handle this kind of unexpected situations. Baz can handle people jumping them in a backalley, that kind of unexpected he’s used to, but a sudden Watford reunion when they’re hunting down vampire kidnappers? Good grief.    
“Hey, Trixie! It’s been ages,” Snow greeted back, somehow managing to sound just as cheery as the pixie, who  _ fluttered  _ off them even though her wings aren’t out. Baz swatted her arms off, and huffed as he dusted himself pointedly. Trixie looked at him with guileless eyes, but Baz doesn’t trust them. Pixies are notorious pranksters. She probably runs around sprinkling dust into people’s eyes on purpose.    
“What are you two doing here? Are you here for the club?” she gasped, clapping her hands together like a brilliant idea just struck her. Maybe she finally realized that her earrings are annoying. Taking Snow and Baz’s hands, she hurriedly pulled them inside, excessively spilling pixie dust everywhere again. The whole floor is covered with it, leading all the way into the staff break room. “We’re not really open yet, but you two can  _ totally _ come in! I’ll even pull something over from the tap, my treat. It’s been  _ so long _ !” she babbled, her voice somehow sounding tinny but grating at the same time. It’s like she has bells in her throat, and not in the poetic nor nice way. Baz has no idea why Snow looked so genuinely happy to see her again. He probably is though. He’s always been friends with  _ everyone _ back in Watford. He’s probably friends with the pixie at one point or another. 

 

“Actually yeah. Baz had business in town and I was just following him. Tag-along as usual, you know?” he smiled winsomely at Trixie, and Baz belatedly realized that Snow was covering for him. He must’ve caught on that Baz’s usual methods of interrogation -threats and hexes, most of the time- would be too suspicious here. And he’s doing all of this because Baz is still reeling back from the sudden social surprise. Snow had stepped in to help. Bless Snow, what a good man. 

Baz decided to delay the swooning for later.

Trixie seemed to know, whatever Snow was talking about, because she was laughing and nodding along as she brought them through the staff door to the front. The staff room was a lot larger than Baz expected, and just the leftover scent alone confirmed that there is a variety of species working in the shop. He thought he heard voices from behind one of the doors in the back. Maybe there are more staff members here than Trixie. 

 

“So I take it you two are still together?” she asked, ever nosy, as pixies tend to be. Simon grinned and nodded, looking perfect and sheepish and entirely kissable. Baz didn’t kiss him, because they’re still investigating. Trixie loudly ‘aww’d. She was still shedding tons of dust everywhere, and Baz felt his hand twitch with the desire to  **Clean as a whistle!** everything away. She pulled the tab behind the bar over, and made a ‘shh’ gesture before pouring tall glasses of whatever is on tab for them both. “Don’t tell my boss!” she tittered, pushing the first glass over to them. Snow never turns down free food and drink, so he naturally took the glass.    
But Baz declined. He’s the one driving, after all.    
  
“What about you, you were with someone from Watford, weren’t you?” Baz responded, and kept his expression blank when he noticed Trixie flinch. He was pretty sure that Bunce used to complain all the time about her pixie roommate and her girlfriend sexiling her from her own room. In fact, it’s hard to forget because Bunce had tried to sleep in his and Snow’s room at one point because of it. Did the two of them break up? That wasn’t unlikely, because pixies are known to be fickle, but Trixie’s expression was hard to read. Pixies are also not known to look grim like that.    
“Ah, no. We’re still together,” she said, her face -shimmering from all the dust- brightened up. “Keris’s just been busy lately. She works in West End, actually. She’s really good. She’s got a gig an art gallery,” she continued, and Baz frowned a little. Trixie’s voice always grated on his nerves, and it was hard to distinguish if she’s lying because he doesn’t actually know her that well. Plus, annoying pixie voices. 

Simon sometimes call him a speciest or whatever, and he knows that he should be more lenient about his view. He can’t help it sometimes. His family is old, and he was raised in traditionalistic ways. Even though he has to admit that the open enrollment for all magic speaking folks into schools like Watford really changed the world for the better, he’s still unable to let go of his fixation sometimes. He’s probably just being stuck up. He should probably stop. Snow is giving him the side-eye already. 

 

Setting his glass of ale down, Snow cleared his throat and squared his shoulders in a way that commands attention, even after so many years. Trixie’s eyes immediately moved towards him, like a fly drawn to the light. Back at Watford, students would flock to him whenever he has something to say. He was bad at speaking, sure, but it didn’t mean they didn’t listen. He was the Chosen One, after all. That sort of name has an effect on most people.    
“So have you been hearing anything interesting around here?” he asked, straight to the point. Baz tensed. Pixies love gossips. They’re as bad as harpies when it comes to talking smack about others, but he’s not sure that’s the best method of getting information about what might be going on in the pub. Trixie looked surprised, her eyes going wide for a little while before she shook her head. “Not really, Simon! Nothing you’d really know about, anyways. I doubt you’ll be interested in knowing how my boss is totally behind on his taxes, or anything like that, right?” she laughed, and Baz inhaled slowly.    
  
She was lying. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

Alright. Something’s going on. Trixie is hiding something.    
Simon turned to his side a little, and realized that Baz was thinking the same thing when their eyes met. Simon knew Trixie since their Watford days, and thought he doesn’t know her as well as Penny does, he knows that Trixie  _ never _ turns down trashing talking and dealing out gossip about people. Even if it’s someone they never met, she wouldn’t let a juicy bait like that pass. 

Unless she’s trying to hide something.

  
The second thing that bugged Simon was the sheer amount of Pixie dust in the place. While the shimmer and glitter actually blended in with the trendy interior decoration of the pub, it was still too excessive. He knows for a fact that Trixie wasn’t the kind to shed dust unless she was excited about something. During their time in Watford, when the Humdrum sent in a whole swarm of Flibbertigibbets into the classroom on attack, Trixie had practically exploded into dust before she fled the room with the rest of the class. As far as Simon knows, pixies shed like crazy when they’re under emotional stress, both the good kind and the bad kind. 

 

He decided to probe, both because he can’t just leave it alone when he knows an old classmate is having a bad time, and also because it might be related to what they’re investigating. “Is everything alright, Trixie?” he asked, gentler this time. “You just seemed-” he gestured around the room, and the bar counter still covered in glittery dust. “-worried.”    
  
Trixie stared at him like he grew another head.    
Baz stared at him like he has no idea what he’s doing but he’ll play along anyways.

 

There was a long, almost uncomfortable silence, and towards the end Trixie started glancing at the door they came in from. Simon felt his stomach drop. The familiar feeling of something  _ bad _ about to happen is revisiting him again after so many years. He opened his mouth-

 

“ **_Kneel in the dust!_ ** ”

  
  


***

  
**Baz**

 

The spell hit faster than Baz realized, and if he had the luxury of time he would marvel at how beautifully executed the whole thing was set up. Trixie had never excelled in school as far as he knew. She did well in spells that generated flowers and life-based things, as expected of a damned  _ pixie _ , but he never knew she had it in her to use executive spells too. Before Baz could take his wand out they were both on the ground, and judging from the sound behind the counter, so was Trixie. Baz snarled quietly when he failed to stand. The spell held fast, and they were covered in the damn dust. 

 

The backdoor opened, and at least five mages stormed out. They were all cloaked, just like the ones that were chasing Walker back in Leeds, and he felt everything inside his gut twist. They walked straight into a trap, and they had let their guards down because of an old schoolmate.   
  
He raised his wand to summon a flame, but it just puttered and sizzled into smoke. Baz tried another spell, a simple **_Clear the air!_** to get rid of the dust, but still nothing. His wand was alive in his hand, but for some reason magic wasn’t working. Was it the dust? Was it another spell?   
The mages were approaching fast, and clearly whatever was affecting Baz’s magic wasn’t working on them, and he instantly realized what was being flung at them when one of the magicians shouted “ ** _Lock and load!_** ” It’s a simple spell, but excellent for capturing prey live during a hunt. With the knowledge of Veronica’s story, it’s pretty obvious that the cloth was being thrown at them was for.   
Baz struggled harder to get back to his feet, to do something. They’re going to get captured at this rate. He recalled the corpse in the survey site, Gwen. It could be anyone else. It could be Snow-

 

They might not  _ just _ kidnap them.

  
  


**Simon**

 

**Kneel in the dust** seemed a little too literal, but then again, Penny used  **Have a knuckle sandwich** on a bloke once when they were out clubbing in London, so he supposed literal spells are highly effective. Especially since he swears his knees are glued to the ground now, where all the dust is. 

  
He expected Baz to spell the dust away and attack, but the look of abject horror on Baz’s face when he tried to  **Clear the air** struck Simon like a hammer to his chest. He knew that look. That was the same look on Baz’s face when he tried to make his own wings disappear after what happened at the Tower, and nothing happened.    
There was no magic.    
Was there no magic in the area? Is this suddenly a hole? Simon cannot tell, but the other mages were using magic, presumably to capture them.    
He remembered the report. There were vampire ashes in the circles… they  _ killed  _ the vampires they captured.    
  
Not on his watch. 

  
  


**Baz**

 

For a moment, it was like they were eighteen, and the world had stopped all over again.

 

There has never been a creature more graceful than Snow with a sword. 

No. Correction: There is no time when Snow can pass off as  _ graceful _ unless he’s holding a sword. The first time he saw Snow use the Sword of Mages, he couldn’t sleep at night. He used to dream about Snow running him through with that blade, sunlight in his hair and fire in his eyes. It would have been a beautiful way to go, and definitely one of his top choices for the last things he’d like to see. It’s fucked up, but Baz used to feel actual jealousy over the dark creatures that Snow dispatched. He still feels that sometimes, in his dreams.   
He knew that Snow knew that he hated it when he practiced his swings in the room. It was a highly effective way to piss Baz off during their years as roommates in Watford, and Snow used that arsenal sparingly. Thank Merlin. It was  _ impossible _ to focus on anything when Snow is waving that damn thing around, all his back muscles stretching, sweat coating his skin. It’s not just something he could pretend he didn’t see, for fuck’s sake. 

 

He has no idea how Snow did it. Or rather, he knew how Snow did it but his brain was stunned as he watched it happened. Snow was bred for action. He lived his life expecting things to go horribly wrong, and even after seven years, Baz’s heart ached to know that the instinct is still rooted in Snow’s heart. His heroic heart.

There was absolutely zero hesitation in Snow’s eyes when he pulled out the lighter Fiona gave him, the same moment the magicians started throwing the pieces of satchel cloth at them.    
There was a familiar flick, a click, and the smell of flint. The sudden burst of blue fire poured out from the top of the lighter and fanned out across the floor like spilled milk, illuminating Snow’s entire body in an ethereal glow. Snow’s pants definitely caught on fire for a moment, along with the dust holding his knees down, but he was off like a flare. Faster than Baz could stop him, he held onto the lighter like it’s a damn hilt, swinging a perfect straight line through the cloth meant for him. His sword form was not polished. It never was. Snow learned from books and self-taught training, but that never seemed to hurt his chances against dark creatures. 

He didn’t slash the one coming at Baz though, probably because he’s afraid of setting Baz on fire if the satchel burns. The one he  _ did _ slice through did burn, and it burned so violent it was like the magic of the fire was trying to devour the magic of the satchel. Baz watched dumbly as it sizzled into dust and withered magic.

  
It reminded him of so many things. It wasn’t green fire and brimstone, but Snow was just as beautiful. If not  _ more _ .    
  
Clearly, none of the mages were used to this kind of combat, or a  _ flaming sword _ being swung at their face. For a man that would trip over his own tail in the privacy of their home, Snow always moved like goddamn  _ art  _ when he’s in battle. That probably explained how he survived so far with just his sword, and it explained why he kept practicing even after he lost his magic. The goblins didn’t get a new king until three years after the Mage died. The ogres and the chimeras would still occasionally find him. 

 

Crowley. This is a terrbible time to get turnt on right now.    
  
Taking Snow’s actions as an inspiration, Baz knocked his fist against the bar table until the half a pint of beer toppled over. He caught the glass and splashed the contents onto the floor around his knees, and took the time Snow bought him to free himself. He felt like a total doofus like this, splashing himself with  _ alcohol _ when he’s a fire magician, but there’s no time to dwell on the little things. Snow may be taking the mages down one by one like a force of nature, but he’s still fighting alone. 

Baz straightened up, and got up on his feet. It was definitely the dust that’s keeping him from his spells, but no matter.    
  
He’s a bloody vampire.   
And the mages. They’re just human. 

  
  


***

 

**Simon**

 

His pants were definitely on fire when he started on the offensive, but luckily they flame gathered up into the blade once he got swinging. The weight of the sword was very different from the one he’s used to, but swords are all the same in the end. He cuts things down, and in this case, sets them on fire. No one was going to hurt Baz and take him away. Especially not  _ these people _ . 

There was a short moment of dilemma of realizing that he’s hacking down real live people, but Simon found it easy to resort back to his old tactics. He stopped thinking about it. He’ll try not to kill any of them, but in decisive battles like these, it’s always better to not overthink things.

He’s just glad that he still got it in him. He has gotten a bit rusty with the lack of practice lately, but he’s not doing this alone.

 

Once Baz managed to free himself, it was only a matter of time before they took down the rest of the mages. Simon grabbed a pitcher of water and ended up dousing the vampire down before he could spell out some magical ropes to capture the surviving ones. Most of them were badly burnt, and Simon would feel bad for them if he doesn’t also remember what happened to the kidnapped people.    
These people were ready to kill them, and in Simon logic, it was fair self-defense to burn them to a crisp. Or stab them. 

 

“Are you alright, Baz?” Simon asked, once the lighter was put away and Baz was done fixing his knees. He almost forgot the pain until Baz turned his wand at him, but he’s glad for it. It would be a real pain (literally) to go back with burnt knees.    
And of course, Baz fixed his wet clothes and hair with magic. What a waste of magic just for vanity. 

“Fine. You hurt anywhere else?” Baz replied. His words were clipped, but his touch gentle as he lightly patted Simon down. The pub was burnt in a few places, but surprisingly nothing actually caught on fire. It all just went out after Simon closed the lighter lid, like cutting off the strings to a tall flag.    
  
Trixie was still kneeling behind the counter top, trapped by her own spell and sobbing quietly into her hands. Her wand wasn’t even out, and she was crying hard enough that her tears would’ve probably freed her if she tried. Baz was upon her within seconds, spelling the dust away and dragging her up the wall. Simon didn’t interfere, but he did eye Baz’s hand nervously, so violently gripping tightly on the half-pixie’s thin neck. Baz looked like a child’s nightmare, with a vein popping out a bit in the back of his neck as he glared at the crying girl. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice a shard of ice in the Arctics. Simon texted Fiona, letting her know to go ahead and come raid the place with her team if she’d like. They have caught some people, that should be enough of a reason to warrant a breach.    
  
“I’m sorry- I’m really sorry,” Trixie sobbed, still crying, and still shedding a lot of dust. Every hiccup she wheezed out made the little bells in her earrings jingle, miserably. “I had to, you don’t understand-” she tried, and made a little ‘urk’ noise as Baz tightened his grip around her neck. Simon sighed, resting a hand on Baz’s back. He’s also very unhappy about the current turn of events. He’d never have expected Trixie to turn them into the enemy like this, but she must have a reason.    
“Let her talk,” he suggested gently, rubbing the vampire on the back until Baz’s breathing slowed down. Baz glared harder, but released Trixie’s neck a little. “You heard him.”

 

Trixie coughed pitifully, and continued. 

“They… they’ve got Keris,” she whispered, her voice hollow. She felt remorse, but not regret. The way she said it was so sure that Simon knew she would do worse for just that reason along. “If I give them ten people, they’ll give her back to me. What else was I supposed to do?!” She was crying again, but this time she was also kicking at Baz, recklessly, like she was about to give up on everything.    
  
“I was just one away! Why did you have to get in my way?”

  
***


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon falls ill, and the trio are left to their own in the base while Fiona goes for the attack. 
> 
>  
> 
> \---  
> I lost my muse when I started school and work again after break, so this chapter took ages to churn out.  
> But the hints have all been laid out, so the main plot is going to roll soon. I'll try to work that in effectively, but man, writing.

***

 

**Baz**

 

The team found Keris in one of the local warehouses for holding artworks, along with four of the vampires that Trixie helped kidnap in the last few days. None of them were in good shape, especially not Keris, who had been trapped in one of the satchels for at least two days before they arrived. If not because of Bunce’s timely arrival to Edinburgh, and Fiona’s experience in her field, things would have probably turned out very differently.

 

To no one’s surprise, Bunce and Fiona make a terrifying tag team when it comes to interrogation. Baz can’t exactly blame Bunce for freaking out though, she was definitely not the only one that realized how dangerously close to certain doom they had been, and Baz was honestly disappointed that they wouldn’t let him join in on the interrogation.    
As it turned out, Trixie was indeed the reason vampires had been disappearing from Edinburgh. Under interrogation, she had confessed that she was ordered to cover the club with silver dust, and spread the dust everywhere whenever she could. She was also made to serve vampire customers with a special supply of blood that would make them weak, allowing the mages to come in at the end of each shift to collect the captured vampires. 

 

The quota had been seven. She admitted -under the influence of a strong compulsion spell- that she was going to capture her last one at the club tonight. The mages in the cloaks, who called themselves Children of the Ring, had promised to return Keris to her if she managed to fulfill her quota within the week. 

 

Bunce didn’t tell Baz any more than that. The rest of the mages were still under interrogation, but they were just henchmen, and not holding much vital informations. And considering the nature of the work, it wasn’t safe to involve Baz any further. That was Bunce’s excuse anyways, but Baz understood. She had meant that it wasn’t safe to involve  _ Snow  _ any further, and Baz agreed. 

 

Fiona, along with a specialized taskforce from the law enforcement department had just left earlier in the night. They had gotten a basic idea of where the mages were supposed to meet up with other members to transport their kidnapped victims, and planned a blitz style ambush in hopes of capturing members with a better idea of what’s going on.    
That had left their temporary base in Edinburgh to just a small handful of the vampire hunters, who are now in charge of minding the place and guarding the captured mages and Trixie until backup arrives to take them to court with the Coven. The base was quiet at last, saved for Bunce’s muttering to herself in the next room over.

 

Baz resents that. Snow needs rest right now and the fact they’re so far from home wasn’t helping. 

 

Looking away from the wall he has been absently glaring at, Baz turned his gaze back to the squishy mattress padding on the floor. Snow was sleeping, and he looked flushed in a way that makes Baz anxious. 

He has been getting used to Snow getting ill every year or so ever since what happened with the Humdrum. According to Snow, he has actually never gotten seriously sick before. He usually recovers from small things like a cold in just a day or two, which explained how Snow wasn’t sick that one time he trapped him out of the Mummer’s House in the dead of winter, really. He would have jokingly charted it up as Snow being the Chosen One and Chosen Ones don’t get sick, but fortunately he managed to shut his own mouth before he said anything.    
That could’ve actually have been the case.    
Snow’s magic hadn’t been normal. Just like the legends, he held magic like no other man should. The few times the Baz has had the opportunity to feel the flow in his own body made him feel more alive than he has ever, given that he’s dead and all. Maybe that insane power was actually keeping Simon Snow healthy and less prone to succumbing to his constant injuries, somehow. It doesn’t make sense, but there wasn’t any change in that one year that could’ve caused the shift in Snow’s immune system. Baz hated it. It reminds him constantly how mortal Snow really is.

 

Normal humans are supposed to catch colds, sure. It could just be an annual thing, like how Bunce catches a cold every now and then Perfectly normal.

 

Baz would’ve been able to convince himself that as well, if Snow doesn’t only ever get sick right near his birthday. Near June. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

Simon always,  _ always _ have some sort of sicky issue going on in the summer, and it pisses him off. The first time it had happened, he was still under house arrest at the Bunce’s home, and he had such a high fever they almost needed to send him to a Normal Hospital because  **Get well soon!** only remedies the symptoms, and not the actual sickness.    
He had been so scared. Simon has never had so much of a full blown cold before, and being so disoriented and uncomfortably warm was terrifying. He’s pretty sure if he had ever been this ill before, he would have gone off just from the discomfort of it. So it was both a fortune and misfortune that he didn’t have his magic anymore. No matter how bad he felt, he’s safe from just blowing his top off and waking up to the building on fire again. 

 

It didn’t make the next time easier, nor the next. Over the years he has gotten better at sensing each episode coming. The Normal doctors summed up his cases as normal colds, but he never had runny noses or anything. He’d fever, and throw up, and feel absolutely shitty, and Simon is no expert on the cold, but it doesn’t seem like the cold to him.    
Some years it’s worse, and some years less so.    
He was hoping it wouldn’t be as bad this year, but that wasn’t happening. 

 

Simon had felt it coming the evening they got back to base with the rest of Fiona’s team. Crazy as she was, she knew how to march her men around and get them to round people up. Penny was coming over immediately, after hearing what had happened. That made Simon feel better. Knowing that his brilliant and focused best friend is around tends to make everything feel like it’s moving towards the better. Penny just has that effect on people. 

While changing out of their clothes, Baz had pointed out that Simon was feeling warmer than usual. He must’ve been paying extra attention to Simon since they started the trip. Baz has always been a bit of a worrywart when it comes to summer time. That always made Simon feel bad, so like always, he tried to dismiss the symptoms. It didn’t stop Baz from stubbornly tucking him into bed early that night though, half-threatening him and half-bribing him with kisses until they both tipped off into sleep. It had been an exciting day.

 

Already, Simon couldn’t get out of bed come next morning, even though he had wanted to greet Penny personally before she goes off to do her whatever. Interrogation, he was told, but he knows it was probably just another way of saying she’s going to magic the truth out. 

Still, Baz hadn’t left his side at all, much to Simon’s surprise. He thought Baz would be eager to be at the frontline of information center, sopping up any new clues to solve this case. Baz loves a good riddle as much as Penny, after all, and it honestly made Simon feel like an invalid to have made Baz stay behind and take care of him like he’s some child. 

 

He rested uneasily. 

  
The sensation from this ‘cold’ always felt less like a cold and more… just more. The heat he feels from the fever isn’t anything familiar. It wasn’t like the heat from his magic past, it wasn’t like the warmth from the lambs he used to pet when visiting Ebb. It’s nothing he knows of, and it always scares Simon. It’s like his own heartbeat, thundering within the dark. Heavy footsteps running down an echoing hallway. Heat. How he always knew he would blow up one way or another. It’s an insistent push from the other side of a door, like many times appearing in nightmares. If he ever opened it, he’s sure he would see the dead face of the Mage on the other side, eyes manic and hollow, blood red sword raised-

 

“Simon!” 

That was Baz’s voice, and a warmth that he  _ knows _ . Blinking awake in between short gasps, Simon slowly focused on his boyfriend’s face in front of him. The lukewarm weight of the vampire’s hands on his shoulder and face is welcomed, and familiar, and not scary, and Simon smiled shakily up at the other. He had made Baz worry. He must’ve drifted off and had a dream or something.    
“Sorry, mate,” Simon mumbled, still looking quite dazed as he made jerking motions to sit up. Baz helped him, and held a glass of cold water up to his lips as he gently brushed some limp, bronze curls out of his face. Simon’s skin was too hot, and too damp, and Baz chewed on his lips the way he does when he’s thinking in circles. His wand was raised, but Simon just reached out and pushed it back down, rolling his eyes. “Stop wasting magic, Baz. It’ll pass,” he promised, huffing out a little laugh at the indignant expression on the vampire’s face. He wasn’t afraid to kiss him, after learning that apparently Baz can’t catch colds, or any human illnesses because he just isn’t one anymore. Plus, Baz’s mouth is soft and cool, a refreshing difference to the uncomfortable tingling on his chapped lips.    
  
“Are you feeling any better?” Baz asked, his voice so soft and his touch so light as he eased Simon back against the pillows that Simon wanted to get out of bed and run a few laps just to make Baz feel less worried, but he also knows that he can’t manage a lie in front of Baz like this. The vampire is uncanny in reading him. Penny insisted that Simon just cannot lie. “I’m a bit hungry,” he admitted, avoiding the question with a shrug. He’s usually more hungry than usual when he feels shitty, but it might also be the fact that he sleeps so much he tended to end up missing meals. The request gave Baz something else to focus on for a moment, and he quickly went to the corner of the room to fix Simon something to eat. The office building doesn’t really have a kitchen, but more or less just a kitchenette. It’s not like anyone cared, as long as they have the ingredients, they could always just magic a meal together. 

 

Watching Baz mumble spells to himself in the corner of the door, pointing his wand at some bread, Simon sighed fondly before leaning back into the propped pillows. He hated making Baz worry like this, because Baz tends to get melodramatic and beat himself up on anything that isn’t even his fault. But it was still kind of nice to get pampered by the vampire. It’s like Baz’s sharp tongue would drop all together, not that they snipe at each other as much anymore, not like how they used to. It’s a side of a very nervous, very soft Baz that doesn’t come frequently, and Simon would take his time to admire him whenever he has the luxury. 

 

He rubbed his chest with a fist, wincing uncomfortably. The stuffy feeling wasn’t really going away. It’s like there was a new organ trying to grow inside of him, pushing it’s way out between existing organs. It’s not exactly painful, but he could do without the sensation for sure.    
  
Baz caught the movement, and was immediately by his side within a heartbeat, holding a paper bowl of some sort of hot milky soup with a chunk of bread inside in one hand. “What’s wrong?” Baz asked, eyes alert and his free hand hovering like a butterfly that doesn’t know where to land. Simon snorted quietly, and rubbed his chest again for emphasis, just to show Baz that he totally wasn’t trying to hide something bad from him. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just hand me the food,” he said easily, taking the bowl from Baz to hungrily sip at the milk. It wasn’t sweet like he expected, but the slightly salty taste was surprisingly good. It makes his stomach feel more settled, and the warmth was a much more pleasant one compared to what he’s feeling.    
Baz pressed the back of his cool hand against Simon’s forehead, before scowling. Apparently Simon is still too warm. Baz tried to pull the blanket further up Simon’s chest, even though he was still eating. Simon grumbled, but didn’t bother fighting Baz. Whatever makes Baz feel better. 

 

“Where’s everyone?” he asked, when he’s done with the soup and soggy bread. Baz was already tucking him back into bed again, fussing over him like a mother hen and neatly tucking the edge of the blanket just under Simon’s chin. The vampire glanced at the window, blinds closed even though it’s already dark outside. “Out. They’re going to try to corner the mages the ones we caught are supposed to meet up with,” he hummed. Simon had been worried when he heard the news that Keris was hospitalized after rescue, though definitely no more worried than Trixie was.    
  


“And Penny?” Simon yawned, cutting off his own question with the gesture. It was nice to have something warm in his stomach, and it helped a lot with his general discomfort.    
“Next room, should I go get her?” Baz replied, somehow procuring a damp, warm towel and helpfully wiping Simon’s face and neck with it. Simon sometimes wonders where Baz learned to even take care of people like this. He didn’t seem like the type to take care of others when they’re sick. 

“It’s okay, she’s probably busy working.” Penny is never not busy. Between everything that’s going on, with her work and moving in with Micah, Simon felt bad that she’s taking obvious time away from her life to tackle this case. But that’s just Penny. Even after so long, she’s the first to stick her nose in ominous business and solving problems like it’s just homework.

 

Simon listened the background sounds of the office for a moment. He can faintly hear Penny talking out loud to herself, or maybe to Professor Bunce on a conference call or something. The office seemed to be quiet otherwise, entirely different from how there would usually be lots of members from Fiona’s team running around.   
“What do you think will happen to Trixie?” he asked, after a moment. Baz had returned to his seat by the bed, holding onto a book he’s been reading. Baz glanced over at Simon, and shrugged. “She’s probably going to get put on trial. People died, Snow. She might lose her wand or get sent to prison,” he speculated, not too keen on thinking too much about it. He knows that Simon is going to think too much into it again. There’s nothing they could do about her situation. Though she had understandably done what she had done out of fear for her girlfriend’s safety, and she might not know the fates of the people she helped kidnap, but the truth simply laid in the fact that vampires were killed. It’s up to the Coven to make the judgement, not either of them. 

 

Personally, Simon thought it wasn’t fair.    
Looking at Baz, dimply lit by the single lamp in the room, looking a warmer glow than usual and defined in black. He knows for a fact that if Baz got captured he would be running out first thing to get him back. But what if there was a situation where he couldn’t save Baz if he doesn’t involve innocent people’s lives?    
  
He’s not so sure what his decision would be then.

 

Baz reached over and gripped Simon’s hand gently, all the while not even looking up from the book he’s holding in one hand. Simon will never know how Baz got so good at reading his thoughts. Maybe mindreading is not a vampire thing after all, but a Baz thing. 

“I’m alright,” Simon chuckled, squeezing Baz’s cool hand back with his much warmer one. He feels more anchored just holding onto the other’s hand, calloused from years of violin and wandwork, but gentle. “I guess I’m just wondering what’s going to happen to all those mages that we caught-”   
  
Simon suddenly stopped, his eyes widening as he whipped his head towards Baz.

 

The basement of the office exploded then.

  
***


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think something as big as what is going on this chapter would be the limelight for the plot, but it really isn't.

***

 

**Baz**

 

Baz had smelled it the same moment Snow’s eyes widened with something like confused surprise, a mere second before the thick smell of smoke and clogged chimneys erupted like a gunshot in the magical atmosphere around them. He was moving on instincts alone. That one second was enough time for Baz to drop his book and threw himself over Snow without thought.

  
The entire building trembled with the thunderous roar of the explosion. Crumbs chipped and crumbled off the surfaces of the structure and showered both the young men with light debris. Baz’s arms were a protective iron cast around his boyfriend, his shoulders hunched, and he would’ve been ready to keep Snow safe even if the ceiling caved in. Through the tremors, and the flickering of the lamp in the room, Baz saw Snow’s eyes stare beyond his shoulder in terror. Snow knows what it was. Baz knows what it was. They have both heard that sound so many times before that they couldn’t possibly be mistaken.

 

It was a magickal explosion.

  
The awful moment of strained silence that followed was tense, and his ears rung like fifty church bells, and his muscles were still tense for impact. Baz was sure that Snow had stopped breathing entirely, his grip cold and knuckles white while clutching tightly onto the front of Baz’s shirt. They were both waiting for any signs of the building starting to collapse, but it didn’t. Baz finally got off the bed an anxious sixty seconds later.

 

“What happened?” Snow asked at last, his voice pathetically soft and surprisingly out of breath. His eyes were flicking around the room wildly, trying to take in anything out of place in the still lit room. When he turned them to Baz, Baz couldn’t help but feel another painful tug in his chest cavity, bubbling with pity and a protective instinct to tuck Snow back into bed. But there was clear disapproval as well, and Baz knew that he would be getting a long lecture about throwing himself into danger again later. 

Not now. The source of that explosion comes first. 

“I think it came from the basement,” Snow speculated, already shifting to move out of bed. Baz made a motion to push him back down, but Snow was having none of it. He slapped Baz’s hand away -lightly- and glared at him with fierce eyes. It has always been impossible to stop Snow when he wants to do something.    
“Don’t be stupid, Baz. If shit is going down I’ll need to get out of bed anyways,” Snow scoffed, as though reading Baz’s mind. “Fetch me my jumper, won’t you?” Before the vampire could even protest, Snow had wiggled himself out of Baz’s arms and onto his feet. 

 

Obliging mutedly, Baz helped Snow into his old jumper -ragged and stained, but Snow refused to throw it out- and then into his shoes. Bunce was already at the hallway waiting for them, her laptop tucked into a tote bag slung over one arm like she’s about to flee the building. She probably was. 

“Oh, thank Merlin you two weren’t downstairs,” she practically shouted, when she saw them coming out of the bedroom. “I was  _ this _ close to just taking the window way out.” Looking between Baz and Snow, Bunce nodded meaningfully, before heading down the stairs first. The smoke was starting to make its way upstairs, flooding out from the bottom that leads to the basement. Baz and Bunce raised their artifacts simultaneously- “ **_Clear the air_ ** !”    
  
Snow sneezed, but it sounded almost like he was coughing instead. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

It wasn’t like there were a whole lot of opportunities to be involved in goddamned explosions ever since… ever since Watford, really. And to have that all come back to him all at once was overwhelming. He was so used to watching out for the signs, practically tuned to it all his teenhood. He could always taste the flintstone dust on his tongue before he goes off, smell the electricity made of condensed fire in the air. Simon was so expectant of just going off again any day that it took him  _ years _ to wane off the habit of jumping every time he smells smoke. So naturally, a real explosion would happen when he’s stopped watching out for them.    
That’s just the kind of bullshit he puts up with in his life.

He can still remember the first time he went off. He was hungry, scrawny, and scared in his singed sleeping clothes, and only eleven. People were screaming, and the home, the home had been on fire. His sheets were burnt to a crisp, and the floor around his bed was charred black.

 

He was always waiting since then, he knew he was a ticking time bomb. That was why his magic was never actually useful. He doesn’t use magic. It never flow from him like it did to everyone else. It just went off, like a canon. If he got agitated, he goes off. If he doesn’t get agitated, he’d still go off eventually. 

The build up always gets too much, too high. The sounds, the smell, the tension in the air made him feel like his heart is going to burst- 

 

-he felt like crying. Explosive fire and smoke like this always brings back too many bad memories.

 

But Baz was watching him, and so was Penny. He can feel their gaze flicker at him even in the dark. The nervousness radiating from them was crippling, and he knew he could not break down now.

They were clearly worried about him, more than they’re worried about himself, and Simon doesn’t want that. The fact that they’re there, the air smelling of burnt wood and dirt, the atmosphere feeling strangely brittle after the violent eruption, and still they’re worried about  _ him _ . It hurts like a punch, and he’s nauseous again. If Baz wasn’t keeping a steely grip on one of his arms, Simon was sure that he would be on his knees by now. Maybe he’s having an attack or something, his therapist had told him that those were perfectly natural, but they never felt like this. They never felt like the world is suddenly too real, and too fake all at once. Like seeing everything from inside a fish tank. Like how he swore he could actually taste the explosion right before it had happened.    
  
He’s terrified. Now that he actually thinks about it, he’s not sure he’s ever been involved in an explosion that wasn’t caused by him.    
  
Mysteriously, the house wasn’t on fire. As they descended further down the stairs, they were met with a few of the remaining members from the vampire hunting team. They were all rushing to the basement from their various previous locations when they met on the ground floor, and after checking each other for injuries they decided to press on. 

They took lead, lighting their wands up like torches and keeping the area bright. Simon was just grateful that they didn’t try to light the place up by fire, as vampire hunters tended to have pyromaniacal tendencies. There could’ve been a gas leak. 

 

Simon kind of knew it wasn’t a gas explosion though, and it had nothing to do with anything mundane. He knew it the same way he thought he knew it was coming before it happened. He knew it the same way he used to, but nothing quite made sense. The further they went down the stairs, the more brittle and crumbly the steps became. It was like a flaming explosion had occurred, but the force of the explosion was just so powerful that it also put out the flames. There wasn’t a speck of light in the basement, and the bottom of the stairs was just a gaping maw lit by wand light.

 

The air is practically sizzling with energy, and smoke, and the smell of something bitter.    
  
Just as Simon was turning the corner into the hallway of the basement, where there were previously cells and bars, Baz was suddenly upon him. Before Simon could shout his confusion, he felt Baz’s hand covering his eyes firmly and pulling him back. 

But it wasn’t enough. Beyond the pale white lights coming from the mages’ wands, he had already caught a glimpse of the oddly reflective, but dark splatters over the burnt black in basement wall. Like fresh jam over a warm roll. The smell was a lot stronger here compared to upstairs, and before Simon could curb his own thoughts, he remember the time he went camping with Baz and Penny, and they had burnt the meat into a hunk of charcoal-

 

When people die, they become just meat and bones. 

Ebb was just flesh and bones, with warm strawberry red blood pooling around her and staining her hair pink. Like a roll.    
The Mage was just flesh and bones. Still deceptively warm, but his body had been just bones and muscles strewn together, nothing more than a heavy shell.

 

It was like lightning had struck Simon.

Jerking away from Baz with surprising strength, Simon slammed a hand against the nearest wall and instantly emptied his stomach at his feet. Baz was saying something in alarm, but Simon couldn’t focus. The urge to empty himself was so insistent that it was all he could do to just lean against the wall and dry heave. He can feel all his blood pushing and pumping as quickly as it can, buzzing in his head and his ears like thousands of flies. His heart was hammering, and he was alive, so alive. It burns. The smoke was hot, too hot. He’s hot, like a frog that finally realized the pot of water he’s in has reached a gradual boiling point.   
  
_ It burns _ .

And in the far, far distance, he felt something rip.

  
  


***

 

**Baz**

 

Baz was sure he’s dreaming. Or maybe just affected. Or maybe he’s finally lost his thin straws of sanity. He had certainly dreamt about this before. Snow had always looked so sad when he thinks no one is looking. It had been worse right after he left Watford, and not so much anymore, but he could never forget anything about Snow.

 

But Bunce was staring too, and so was every single one of the vampire hunters in the room. Their wands are still drawn, as though frozen in time. No one was even looking at the definitely human shaped blood splatters on the crumbling wall. They were all looking at Snow, in the dim light, and no one breathed.

Greyish smoke with the scent of burnt human flesh and gun powder swirled the air, dancing like underwater ghosts around the lights of his wand. It’s like sound was draining out of the room, though he could still acutely hear everything. Snow was vomiting against the wall, his red wing shaking like leaves in a storm. He sounded like he was crying too, and Baz has at least five trains of thoughts beating himself up for not helping Snow right now. Right  _ now _ , for fuck’s sake!   
  
But he couldn’t help. 

 

He was mesmerized. It was like watching a flower bloom right in front of him, or a lake form in the geography all due to time rushing forward. He was dazed, just like everyone else, by the scent of fresh herbs in rich soil, and dancing candle fire, all coming from his supposedly Normal boyfriend. 

  
  
***


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't roll out the actions like I wanted because it's clutch time at work, plus the start of the semester for classes.   
> I think I'm going to rework the plan a bit, and focus on Watford maybe for a while?? 
> 
> Wow, my plotplanning went down the drain the moment break ended. 
> 
> (I did enjoy gradually describing more and more of Simon's terrible fashion sense.)

*******

 

**Simon**

 

Oh Fuck. What is happening? 

 

It took some time for Simon to stop heaving, but as he rose -wiping his mouth with the back of his old jumper’s sleeve- back to his feet properly, he noticed a few things. One, everyone was watching  _ him _ , and not the clearly gruesome murder scene behind them. Two, Baz looked like he needed to feed again.

 

Three,

 

he can feel something like a newborn pulse in his body, thrumming through his palms, his fingertips, his tongue.

 

_ Again _ .

  
  


**Baz**

 

Throwing any public image he might have been trying to maintain straight out of the window, Baz threw his arms around Snow the moment he saw the realization hit his boyfriend. Snow was staring at his own hands in the dim room like he was starstruck, and giving zero shit about the crowd still watching them, Baz grabbed his beautiful, dazed boyfriend by the face and kissed him on his mouth. He can actually still taste puke, but he doesn’t care. This was bigger than anything that has happened in the last seven years. Bigger than anything they could’ve hoped for.    
  
He can smell it clear as day now. The faint scent that had started emanating from Snow since the day he lost his magic practically feels palpable now, more than just brown butter and warmed caramel, there was a definite body behind the magic. ‘ _ Like a tree’ _ , Baz thought. ‘ _ Or a garden.’ _ It’s entirely different from the old magic Snow had, but it was something the the vampire could easily recognize as  _ Simon Snow’s _ . 

 

“It’s back,” he breathed, when they pulled away from each other, just in case it didn’t go through Snow’s occasionally very thick skull. Snow nodded, and Baz felt a hot air balloon swell up in his chest.    
  
He swung around to look at Bunce. He’s able to see clearly in this dark, so he caught the glimmering wetness in her eyes that she probably wouldn’t have normally showed. She was covering her mouth with both hands, like she was physically stopping herself from screaming and jumping up and down. And as much as it embarrassed him, Baz kind of knows exactly how that feels right now. Snow’s magic was back- 

It’s back. Or maybe it’s a new magic. Or maybe Snow was right and the magic he’s had before wasn’t his real magic after all-

 

But how? 

 

* ******

 

**Simon**

 

Baz’s aunt came back by the time morning arrived, soaked to the bones just like the rest of her team, and she had been furious. According to Baz, the lead had been a wild goose chase, and they were played for a fool for a good part of the night while they chased them almost all the way to Wales before a report came in. The two sites nearest to Edinburgh had been ‘struck’. Or closed. Or ritualized. Two more bodies were found, two more mages dead and mangled within seared black circles. All of the cloaked mages they had captured were also dead, their corpses looking like they had simply been spelled to explode after a certain period of time. This meant very dangerous things for the team. Their movements were monitored, and by now their location was probably exposed. Though new wards have been placed since the explosion last night, they will be changing office as soon as they can. Whoever they’re dealing with now are clearly 1) Dark wizards, 2) and they don’t care if they need to murder. But most importantly, 3) they are actively targeting mages now. The most recent holes had definitely contained more human blood than vampire ashes at this point. The ones before must’ve been for practice, or for calculating adjustments. All the deaths before were just failures. Whatever they’re aiming for, the closing of the holes might actually just be a byproduct.

That had been Professor Bunce’s speculation, looking haggard over the Skype call in the early morning, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.   
  
Penny was angry that she hadn’t thought to check for any jinxes meant to kill off traitors or prisoners, and Baz’s aunt Fiona was furious that they -whoever  _ they _ are- took her lightly. Baz was sure that someone’s going to get killed by the time the mission was taken care of. Apparently his aunt never lets someone who has slighted her live. 

 

Simon knows that the only reason Baz wasn’t downstairs at the meeting room, pitching in on the strategy meeting with his brilliant mind, was because of a more important matter at hand.    
  
He doesn’t want to say it’s more ‘important’, exactly. That would be so vain and condescending of him to think so. But it’s certainly something very serious. Penny ran some proper tests when Simon woke up in the morning, and he’s definitely got some pulse of magic back in his body. It’s still weak, about as strong as a toddler’s early impulses of magic. But it was real, not a dream, not a nightmare -though it was gruesome to be one- or any of his wildest fantasy. The strangely new, but comforting feeling buzzing under his skin was actually magic. 

 

The Council had been contacted overnight, and Simon already received a summon back to Watford to meet with Headmistress Bunce and a physician chosen by the Coven. With the issue of the holes closing up through some sort of dark ritual across the cities, and the kidnapped mages and creatures, they clearly wanted to make sure there’s no correlation to Simon’s magic returning as well. Seven years ago, just about everything that went on had something to do with Simon Snow and the Mage. There haven’t been much turbulence in the world until now, but it’s always good to cover their tracks and check first. 

 

Baz seemed happier with the news that there is now an official reason to get Simon out of Edinburgh. Simon probably would’ve refused to go back home to London even if his magic had came back just like this. There was something sinister going on, and he didn’t want to leave the matter with his holes -yes, they’re  _ his _ \- unfinished. But with an official summon, to Watford no less, Simon can’t refuse.    
He has been back to Watford a few times since Baz’s Leaver’s ball. A few times to just check on Ebb’s grave, twice more to sort out the vault that the Mage had set up within Watford and make sure that the magic there accepts him as the heir to all of the Mage’s worldly possessions, or what was left of it after the Coven went through them anyways.

But there were another reason to go back now. If he’s really magic again… he’d need his wand. 

 

Watching Baz spell their clothes back into the suitcase, the vampire having been way too absentminded all day to really focus on doing it by hand, Simon couldn’t help but ask for the five hundredth time in the morning. “Are you sure?” he asked, even though he can feel Baz’s spell now. Differently from how he could sort of tell when someone’s magic, but not actually  _ feel _ it like he can. If he has to put it to words, he’s not really able to explain how he can just tell. It’s like being colorblind before, but he could still tell light and dark. Now, though. Now he can see the world in full color again.    
If he’s running with the color analogy, he must point out that the world certainly wasn’t as  _ vivid _ as this before. Which came out strange even in his own head. His magic was so strong before, practically a miniature sun in his chest and bursting with energy constantly, it’s strange to think that somehow he felt that the magic coursing like a weak breeze through him now is actually more… colorful.    
  
It doesn’t actually make sense, how stupid.

 

At least Baz seemed intended on humoring him anyways. If anything, Simon swears that Baz is actually trying not to smile. He’s been in an uncharacteristically good mood since they woke up, and he didn’t even make one single snide comment on Simon’s outfit choice for the day. “Yes, Snow,” he replied, with the infinite patience of a practiced mother of three children. He flicked his wrists, and a pair of socks practically danced into a ball in the air before dropping on top of Baz’s sinfully skinny jeans in the almost packed suitcase. “For Farack’s sake. If your magic is like a cat you’d better not panic and scare it off,” he teased, but kissed Simon to let him know it was a joke, not another reason to get nervous.    
Fixing Simon’s shirt collar -a ragged button up with hideous horse-creatures printed over the front, another one of Simon’s favorites- with a tender, but faint smile, Baz sighed. He looked at Simon like he is having as much trouble believing it as Simon himself is feeling, but unlike Simon, he looked like he’s perfectly okay with accepting it without question.    
  
“Come on, let’s get going. I’d rather we get back before dark,” Baz hummed, pulling back after fussing over Simon’s hair for a minute. It made Simon grin genuinely. Baz is such a mother bat even in moments like these.    
They got up, carrying their bags -Simon almost had to fight Baz to get to carry  _ something _ \- out of the room and down the stairs. Penny popped out of the room that the meeting was apparently being held in, the majority of the first floor was still being cleaned up and investigated, so they’re going to have to exit from the side door.    
  
“You boys all ready?” she asked, her hair was a vibrant lavender, and her outfit bright teal. She must be in a good mood today too, because there was a spring to her steps as she bounded over to hug the ‘boys’. “Remember to-”

“We’ll text you when we get there, and we’ll call you when we get home,” Simon interrupted, good-naturedly, as he hugged his best friend back. Penny wrinkled her nose at him. Simon just laughed, watching her give up and go hug Baz next.

 

Penny still looked pretty delighted though, and she held onto Simon’s arms when they faced each other again. “I don’t know what happened,” she started, her voice soft, but straightforward. “I don’t know what it might imply or what the Coven thinks it implies-” Simon has only seen Penny get teary during cliche sad movies, and the times when he almost died. He’s not sure if she even cried for anything else before. 

“- I just want you to know, I’m really happy for you, for whatever it might be,” she whispered, her voice sounding slightly breathy, but her teal painted smile was huge. Her hair was barely contained under a teal hair band, and her outfit always make people wince. But it’s Penny, and she always means what she says.    
Simon felt a lump form in his throat, and it’s like he’s fourteen again and words don’t make sense between his brain and his mouth. So he just nodded stupidly, a few times for emphasis, before hugging her again.    
  


Then, to absolutely everyone’s surprise. Baz joined in, and made it a group hug about three seconds later. 

  
***


End file.
